


Uneasy Lies the Head that Wears the Crown

by beyond_this_illusion



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Medieval AU, Reylo - Freeform, War of the Roses-esque, slow burn?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-05-31 03:22:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 42,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6453394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_this_illusion/pseuds/beyond_this_illusion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With the death of her father at the hands of an assassin, Princess Rey Kenobi of Ileenium finds herself upon the throne.  Due to a series of bloody conflicts predating her reign, Rey is aware of the need to secure her throne against those with weaker claims.  To do so requires taking a husband, preferably one from the great families of her kingdom.  Despite her tenacity it is generally believed that a woman cannot rule, making the importance of her choice ever more dire.  When an uprising threatens in the southern region of Ileenium, Rey makes a swift decision.  She chooses Lord Kylo Ren, son of the de facto ruler of Alderaan and the grandson of the very man who'd stolen her grandfather's inheritance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I've been itching to write a historical AU for the Reylo pairing for a while and finally decided to take the plunge. This fic is very much based on the dynastic issues/fighting/claims of the Cousins War, or War of the Roses of English history. This first chapter if quite wordy regarding names and such, so bear with me please!
> 
> This will probably be a once a week update.

“The King is dead.”

 

The colorfully dressed women, arranged around the queen upon her ornate chair, ceased their chattering and laughing upon the words of the messenger.  Eight sets of eyes swiveled to the queen, their beloved matron, to await her reaction.  

 

Queen Cleera Kenobi, formerly Lady Dameron, paled to the same shade of ivory as the linen held in her grasp.  To her credit she did not cry out nor did she fall into tears as another might upon hearing of the death of their spouse.  She was of proud, Dameron stock; she had been at court long enough to know that a slip of one’s mask was all it took to send in the vipers.

 

The queen slowly set down the linen in her lap, rising after an even inhale.  Her ladies hastily stood, no one daring to breach etiquette at such a critical time. The only female to not yet rise was still staring at the messenger in unveiled shock. 

 

A gentle nudge from one of the older ladies-in-waiting spurred the princess to rise from her seat, her movements slowed as if she were trapped in a fog.  A bead of blood burst from her finger where her embroidery needle pierced her skin, the pressure unnoticed during the messenger’s announcement.  

 

“Send for Earl Dameron,” the queen ordered, voice clear if not as self assured as normal.  

 

With that she strode toward her inner chamber, glancing at her chief lady-in-waiting as well as her daughter.  The silent gaze was enough of a decree to fall in line behind the sovereign.  Once in her bedchamber the regally attired woman allowed her facade to crumble.  Her legs shook until she was crumpled on the floor, the velvet of her skirts pooled around her.  A jeweled hand was pressed to her mouth to withhold the chest wracking sobs that threatened.  

 

“Mother….”

 

The queen turned her watery gaze to the nineteen year old standing beside her, taking in the sheer terror visible upon her daughter’s features.  

 

“I thought….I thought….”

 

Rey allowed herself to be enveloped in her mother’s arms.  The familiar scent of rose water that her mother used to perfume her clothing did little to soothe the young woman, huddled in grief with the elder.  She didn’t need to finish her utterance, both women knowing what the younger meant to say.

 

She’d thought the bloodshed was over.

 

*****

  
  


The Kenobis were of old, prodigious stock.  They could trace their family lineage back to the earliest nobility of Ileenium with ties to the throne.  Through marriage a Kenobi ancestor gained kingship, setting up a glorious inheritance for those to follow.  Her family ruled for four generations before King Carth Kenobi was overthrown by invaders.  

 

King by right of conquest, Revan Sith of Talravin seized control of the country from the weak willed Carth. It was often lamented by the father of Carth that he did not have the same virility or drive for success as his younger brother, Atton,  who was surely better suited for kingship.  The limited military capabilities of Carth led to his death on the battlefield at the hands of a foreigner from the southern sea.

 

It was said that Revan meant to wipe away any trace of the Kenobi family to prevent a challenger to the throne. Under his childless brother’s will, Atton was next in line for the throne. Yet Atton, the Duke of Stewjon, was unseated by the conquest of Revan, leaving the would-be-king in fear for his young life.  Legend spoke of the tears of newly crowned Queen Bastila, the wife of the invader, who used her influence with her husband to spare the life of the thirteen year old prince.  Whether it was his wife’s pleas or the bloated confidence in his own heir, Revan allowed the young Atton to live.

 

Orphaned and separated from his elder sister, Atton was effectively put under house arrest in the heart of the kingdom, away from the borders of sympathetic Naboo and Yavin who may have raised their banners for his cause.  The former princess and elder sister was safely married into a seemingly stalwart family, thus making her no threat to the newly crowned king.  No one would back the son of the princess over a remaining male heir; to inherit through a maternal line was impossible when it concerned the throne.  Kreia Kenobi’s marriage to Rainor Hux gave her both refuge and a co-conspirator in returning her family to its rightful place.

 

The Jedi Knights, the most elite band of warriors in the kingdom, were severely curtailed during Revan’s reign. Had Revan allowed them their full power he would most likely have been ousted.

 

Within five years pestilence swept through the land after consecutive years of harvests of little yield.  The common people placed the blame of their misfortunes upon Revan and his invasion, fearing God was angered by his upheaval and was punishing them all for their sovereigns crimes.  In an ill fated move to improve his image to the public, Revan released the eighteen year old Atton from his forced lodgings and restored him to a portion of his property.  No longer a prince nor the Duke of Stewjon, he was granted the paltry title of Lord Stewjon. The demotion was seen as a fate no better than his former arrest for all the damage it did to his pride.  

 

When the pestilence carried away Revan’s only child he realized the dangers of his inflated ego.  By thinking himself so secure in power and releasing Atton from captivity, he’d overlooked his own mortality.  Displeasure among the nobles and peasant grumblings led to thousands backing the claim of the slighted prince.  Within the year Revan was killed on the battlefield at the hand of none other than the young man he’d ripped the throne from.

 

King Atton Kenobi wasted no time in correcting the mistakes of his predecessor.  He eliminated threats within the former court of Revan while promoting those nobles who remained loyal to the Kenobi line.  Showing mercy as she’d done to him in the past, Revan allowed the widowed queen to reside within one of the expansive abbeys of Ileenium.  He restored the Jedi Knights to their full power, allowing them to induct new members for the first time in years.

 

Atton knew that outside alliances may have saved him years of imprisonment had they existed during his older brother’s reign.  He took to wife the niece of the King of Naboo, the closest neighbors of Ileenium to the south. In marrying Ellaine Naberrie he secured a strong tie to the wealthy nation.  Upon the death of his sister’s husband, he sought a powerful match for her across the sea.  Now returned to her royal title, she was once more a profitable player in the marriage market.  That she’d already birthed a son proved that she was fertile,a most revered quality to have at such a time.  With Kreia wed to Prince Hugo Skywalker of Tatooine, Atton created yet another link and ally to Ileenium.

 

Ellaine birthed five children for the Kenobi line, with three living to adulthood.  The only son and eldest child, Rasheen, ascended the throne upon his father’s death.  Rasheen was raised on the stories of his father’s hardship and triumphs, leading to his utter devotion to continuing the momentum of  Atton’s reign.  

 

To bolster the treasury, depleted from rebuilding and improving the kingdom after the fall of Revan, Rasheen looked to one of the wealthiest noble families.  The former Count of Scipio left his young wife with only an infant daughter upon his death while fighting for Atton’s crown years earlier.  The infant was made Countess of Scipio in her own right and, upon marriageable age, became one of the most wealthiest prospects in the kingdom.  With the other prospects paling in comparison, Rasheen married the Countess Miriam Clovis nearly two years after his coronation.  

 

The kingdom prospered under the reign of Rasheen’s son, Wakodur and his wife.  Married to the eldest daughter of the king of Yavin, the Kenobis solidified another foreign alliance.  Two children resulted from the union: a son and a daughter.  Vesta, the first child of the royal couple, was joined to the Mothmas, a family loyal to the Kenobis since the time of Carth’s reign.  

 

The son and heir of Wakodur and Megrez, Obi-Wan, was lauded for his wisdom and skill at such a tender age.  He was gifted in the art of combat yet could impress even the most learned tutors assigned to him during his adolescence. He was personally trained by the Jedi Council in the art of combat. His household was composed of other well-bred boys who studied and grew alongside him.  The eldest son from the Windu family as well as a Skywalker boy were the closest friends of the young prince.  Studying under the renowned scholar Yoda, the trio grew into adulthood together while honing their skills.  

 

Upon Obi-Wan’s ascension he placed both men on his council, trusting their opinions above all others. Mace Windu was more cautious than Obi-Wan’s distant cousin, Anakin.  Descending from the second marriage of their common ancestor, Kreia Kenobi, Anakin was a member of the inner circle of the royal family.  

 

On a diplomatic visit to Naboo on behalf of his king, Lord Anakin Skywalker first encountered the youngest daughter of the ruler of Naboo, Padmé  Naberrie.  The two instantly became smitten with one another, leading the rash Skywalker to secretly wed the princess before his visit came to an end.  The affront to both Obi-Wan and the royal family of Naboo at the unsanctioned union should not have easily been erased.  Yet Kenobi, holding the man so dear to his heart, welcomed the newly married pair back to Ileenium with celebration.  Windu did not approve of the slight though his king could not see to punish his dear friend and kinsman over the breach of etiquette; with Anakin being a distant member of the royal family, his marriage should have been approved of by Obi-Wan and his council.  Instead Anakin had flaunted royal rule by doing as he wished, not only insulting Obi-Wan but Ileenium’s closest ally of Naboo.

 

To reduce gossip as well as tension within the court over the sudden noble marriage, Obi-Wan once more sent his friend on another diplomatic trip.  Skywalker and his wife journeyed to Talravin, the former home of the invader Revan, to oversee a trade negotiation.  It was there that Anakin befriended Lord Sheev Palpatine, a nobleman of the Talravin court.  Seeing in Skywalker a chance at elevating his station, Palpatine accompanied him back to Ileenium.

 

It was to Palpatine who Anakin vented his frustrations over his station; his mother, a great lady in her own right, married Lord Skywalker in her early twenties.  It was said that while Anakin’s father served as Ambassador to Yavin, Shmi struck up an affair with an unnamed knight.  There were whispers that Anakin was the product of the affair, though no solid proof ever came forth that Lady Shmi ever forsook her place as wife to Skywalker.  

 

After the death of the elder Lord Skywalker it was revealed that many loans taken out by the nobleman had yet to be paid, unknown initially to his widow. Lady Shmi was forced to pawn much of her plate and jewels, leaving the noble family far less wealthy than their name would suggest.  Applying to her husband’s kinsman for aid, she was able to secure a place for her son in the household of Obi-Wan during his time as prince.  

 

His family’s wealth inadequacies were never forgotten by Anakin.  With his link to the throne of Illenium as well as relation to the rulers of Tatooine, he felt more often than not that he should hold a higher standing in the kingdom.  Palpatine fed into his complaints, agreeing that his new friend should be treated far more highly than he was currently.  

 

Fueled by Palpatine’s venomous support, Anakin nearly ruptured his friendship with Obi-Wan when he demanded the childless king name him as his heir.  The king balked at the demand; Anakin claimed descent through a second marriage in the female line.  The laws of the kingdom forbade such a claim, which Obi-Wan made to remind him of.  

 

To diffuse the situation he doubled his efforts to seek a wife, having taken little interest thus far to find a consort.  Under the recommendation of Windu he married the Duchess Satine of Mandalore, a young widow who carried her family’s title in the absence of a brother. Within the year the queen gave birth to a son and heir, Prince Hamaal.  Supplanted by a mere infant, Anakin retreated to his estate to lick his wounds.  He ignored the king’s invitation to court for the Christmas festivities, instead holding his own lavish celebration with his wife.

 

It wasn’t until war was declared between Ileenium and the kingdom of Dooku that Skywalker emerged into the public eye once more.  It seemed that all was well between the three friends again: Kenobi, Windu, and Skywalker.

 

Crushing Dooku nearly to the point of destruction was far from what the passive Obi-Wan wished.  While his councilors and generals argued on the correct method of achieving victory, the king sought a peaceful solution.  A handful of skirmishes gave Dooku plenty of reason to doubt their intent upon claiming Illenium land.  Seeking an end to violence before the larger kingdom destroyed them, a peace gathering was held.  To Skywalker’s utter outrage Obi-Wan accepted terms of peace.

 

The lack of leadership, in Skywalker’s opinion, was the last straw.  He acted upon the advice of Palpatine and declared his intent to take the throne that he claimed was rightfully his. His ancestor, Kreia Kenobi, had been the eldest sibling of King Carth, and thus higher in the line of succession than Atton.  Ignoring the law regarding the barring of royal claims through the female line, Anakin led a siege on the capital of Coruscant with mercenaries hired through Palpatine from Talravin.

 

Obi-Wan and his family barely escaped the capital with their lives, not prepared in the slightest for the betrayal of his dearest friend.  The royal family was chased to the western reaches of the kingdom where they crossed into Yavin, calling upon their long standing alliance for aid.

 

With Anakin seizing the throne with the aid of Palpatine and the Talravins, he called upon  his wife’s native Naboo to help keep it.  Though entwined with the Kenobi line through previous marriages, the Naberries sought to protect their newly pregnant daughter.

 

Anakin took note of the mistakes of King Revan in underestimating the ability of the Kenobis to rebound from hardships.  He ordered the arrest of the Lady Vesta, her husband, and their children in fear of another Kenobi retaking the throne.  Charging the princess and her family with treason on false charges of aiding her brother, the branch of Kenobis were put to death.

 

Uproar arose throughout the kingdom over the heinous slaughter of the princess and her family.  Those who begrudgingly accepted Skywalker over their distaste with Obi-Wan’s handling of Dooku revolted at the ruling.  Windu led an uprising that ended with his head upon the executioner’s block. Seizing his chance, Obi-Wan invaded his former kingdom with the army of Yavin at his side and the support of the once more repressed Jedi.

 

The realization of Anakin’s crimes in supplanting his friend, outright murder of his innocent cousins, and the death of Windu occurred in the form of pleas from his beloved wife.  He rounded on Palpatine, blaming him for seducing him to such atrocities.  The adviser expected that his former benefactor would round on him once news of the impending army reached the capital.  When Anakin tried to attack the nobleman in retribution of his crimes he was faced with resistance from Palpatine’s guard.  Cornered at swordpoint with a pair of Talravin Troopers, he grabbed the errant adviser and plunged them both over the balustrade overlooking the entrance to the Skywalker estate.  The plumett killed them both, ending the reign of King Anakin.

 

The kingdom rallied to the side of the returning Kenobis and helped to expunge the remaining Talravins.  Although Obi-Wan had no intentions of taking retribution for the deaths of his sister and her family, former Queen Padmé fled the kingdom to her native Naboo. There she gave birth to a set of twins before perishing from childbed fever a week later.  The twins were then separated for their safety, one being sent to distant relations in Alderaan and the other to their paternal kinsmen in Tatooine.  

 

Peace reigned in the kingdom through the remainder of Obi-Wan’s reign.  He lived to see his son and heir wed to the Lady Cleera Dameron, daughter of the Earl of Massassi, as well as the birth of his grandchild.  A daughter joined the Kenobis one late summer night after making her mother suffer through labor for nearly a day and a half.  The girl, named Rey, was the delight of the restored Kenobis.  Though a son was much desired, the princess signaled a return to normalcy and prosperity after the tumultuous usurpation of Skywalker.

 

Hamaal took the throne three years after the birth of Rey upon Obi-Wan’s death.  A series of miscarriages and stillbirths disheartened the royal couple.  The king reluctantly came to the realization that his daughter, though beloved, would be his only heir.  Whispers circled the court that Hamaal would put away his wife in search of another, younger woman that could give him the son that his family line required.  He struck down the rumors by declaring the previous law barring female succession of the throne null, paving the way for Rey’s inheritance.  

 

Instantly talk arose of who the princess would be wed to.  Though it was generally accepted that Rey would one day be queen, it was just as widely believed that she would be inadequate to rule the kingdom alone on account of her sex.  If Hamaal was to perish before the princess made a match, or before she reached the age of twenty-one, the crown would be monitored by a regency panel of trusted noblemen.

 

 Matches from Yavin, Tatooine, and even the far off kingdom of Generis were considered for the princess though all came to naught.  It was feared that if a foreign prince wed the princess the commons would chafe against an outsider king.  The question then shifted to which noble family would be selected to send a son to wed the future-queen.

 

The decision was never made in Haamal’s lifetime.

 

*****

_ ‘In and out, in and out’. _

 

The silent mantra did little to calm the nerves currently swirling within the young woman.  The heavy black velvet of her skirt jumped lightly from her trembling though she tried her best to cease her shaking.  The unexpected murder of her father at the hands of an assassin was agonizingly fresh, only occurring two days prior.  The attacker was still on the run, evading capture by the Jedi.  It was all she could do to not allow the tears that had been present in her eyes since hearing the news to spill over.  

 

She had to stay strong.  For her father, for her family, for her kingdom.

 

“I present Rey Kenobi, by the grace of God, Countess of Scipio, Duchess of Stewjon, and Queen of Ileenium.”

 

With the words of the herald she straightened her back and entered her father’s council chamber not as a frightened girl but as a determined woman.

  
As a  _ queen. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the wonderful feedback! I'm so excited someone else besides me found this interesting. I have a general outline in plan for this fic so we should have a steady, once a week update system as I mentioned last chapter. I'll try to update on Sundays, though this is being posted on Monday. 
> 
> I've also included a family tree for reference at the beginning of this fic. I hope that helps clear up any confusion!

 

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Republica was the central residence of the Kenobis in Coruscant, the capital city.  Originally it was erected as a lodging for King Aldric, father of Carth and Atton, and his wife upon their marriage.  Still a prince and not yet king, Aldric benefited from proximity to the capital, his father, and the independence of his own household.  Shortly after the crowning of his eldest son, Carth, Republica was expanded to house the royal court.  It replaced the former castle in the city after fire broke out from overly dry floor rushes.  

 

Various generations continued updating and improving Republica until it became the most luxurious of the royal palaces of Ileenium.  No longer consisting of simply a great hall and lodgings for the royals above, the castle boasted a myriad of rooms for the court.  Her father made many modifications to the castle including a series of gardens and a tiltyard near the shoreline. 

 

Rey’s lodgings were situated at the eastern end of the castle, overlooking the Pharine River.  She often delighted as a child to watch the comings and goings on the river that, if followed for miles, would empty into the ocean.  She wasn’t overly fond of traveling on the water though it didn’t stop her from being fascinated by it.  

 

Once, before she’d yet to reach the age of ten, she’d bent so far over the railing of the royal barge to see the oars dipping into the water that she’d nearly fallen in.  Her nurse had given her a solid swat across the rump for such behavior in the presence of her mother.  Despite her stinging backside she hadn’t been discouraged from observing the actions of the rowers that propelled the barge down the river.  

 

She’d always enjoyed learning how things worked.  Her tutors encouraged her curiosity despite her mother’s reservations at such an in depth education. Many young noblewomen of her generation could barely read or write their own names, whereas Rey itched to learn as much as she could.

 

Sitting before the window she once enjoyed gazing out of, Rey tried to read the open book in her lap.  The words blurred together into meaningless scribble as if they were not written in the finest hand of one of the tireless monks who painstakingly copied tomes.  Her mind could not concentrate, knowing what was occurring within the city.

 

Nobles from across the land flocked into the capital for her father’s burial. His Earthly body had been washed and scented with precious oils to help preserve the king for the duration of time needed before he was placed into the floor of the capital’s cathedral.  She supposed they should all be grateful for the wintry season; bodies tended to stink to the heavens during the summer.  

 

Already those that loved and served him were kneeling before his body, offering their prayers for his salvation.  It wasn’t suitable for herself or her mother to attend among the crowds as of yet.  Before the burial they would have a few moments alone with the king before he was placed into his tomb for eternal rest.

 

Tradition dictated that she not be present for the actual mass delivered by the archbishop.  She would utter her prayers for her father’s spirit before her own prayer dieu while the holiest officers in the land prepared him for his entombment.  

 

As her father’s only child and heir she’d an unusual relationship with him for a female offspring.  Daughters were most often under the realm of influence of their mothers, though her father did not shy away from inserting himself into her life.  She recalled fondly the times in which he would tote her around the hall on various feast days to give her a bird’s eye view of the goings on.  

 

It had been he that bequeathed her her first pony and took it by the halter for her to ride.  It had been he that encouraged her love of learning and her inquisitive nature. 

 

Her life would be coldy empty without his warm, cheerful presence.  

 

Feeling herself begin to fall into sorrow once more, she hastily reached for the scrap of linen tucked into her sleeve used to stem her tears.  A knock at her chamber door had her scrambling to use her fingers rather than the errant cloth to erase the evidence of her tears.

 

“Enter,” she called, making an effort to keep her voice steady.  There were already plenty who believed it unwise of her father to name her as his heir because of her gender; she didn’t wish for her show of tears to give any more reason to the dissenters as to why they believed she couldn’t rule.

 

A familiar face entering her private chamber caused relief to wash over her features.

 

“Your Grace,” the dark haired man bowed, the usual twinkle in his eyes dimmed by the events of recent days.  

 

She stood hastily from her seat, folds of velvet skirts smoothing from the movement, and hurried to him.  Without preamble she embraced her cousin tightly, finding his embrace to be just as viselike as her own.

 

Poe Dameron, although nearly eight years older than her, was her closest cousin in both age and familial affiliation.  Poe was the son of her mother’s brother, Earl Rickard and his wife, Countess Janeel Jinn.  The Jinn family were among those that remained loyal to the Kenobis during the ousting by Revan; Jeemina Jinn was the wife of King Aldri Kenobi, thus the mother of Kings Carth and Atton.  It was through Queen Cleera’s influence that she managed to land such a wealthy, illustrious prospect for her elder brother.  

 

Rey, despite her young age, hadn’t been deaf to the rumors of her mother’s designs on arranging a match between her only child and the son of her beloved brother.  Such a marriage would raise the Damerons to unprecedented heights and establish a new ruling dynasty.  Going from being linked to royalty, they would create a new royal dynasty.

 

Despite her love for her dear cousin, Rey did not harbor any excitement or interest in such a match.  Poe would undoubtedly make a good husband to any well born girl.  He was quite handsome, brave, and carried more than a dozen other traits that were admirable according to the gossip of the court ladies.  But he was  _ Poe _ .  She didn’t think she could reconcile the idea of producing heirs with the same young man who’d once raced ponies with her across the countryside.  

 

She wasn’t naive, however.  She knew that matches in her social class were most often not made for love, especially those of royalty.  Her parents grew attached to each other through the years and developed a strong love for one another.  It hadn’t been love at first sight, like the songs of the bards.  Instead her father pined for another, a daughter of the Tano family.  The Tanos, a noble house native to Tatooine, established a cadet branch in Ileenium through a younger son.  

 

Ahsoka Tano held a reputation, even years past her prime, of being witty and beautiful.  Upon reaching the age of fifteen she was accepted at court as a lady-in-waiting to Queen  Padmé, serving as a trusted handmaiden.  She quickly captured the attention of King Anakin and often enjoyed his company at social functions both public and privately held in the queen’s chambers..  Had she been a little older and had Anakin not been so adoring of his wife, there was a possibility that she might have shared the king’s bed.  

 

Hailing from the same kingdom that Anakin claimed royal ties to, she was undoubtedly loyal to him and his claim to the throne of Ileenium.  When he sacrificed himself to end the influence of Palpatine she’d been inconsolable for days over the loss of her beloved monarch.  Unable to follow her queen across the kingdom to Naboo, she reluctantly remained in Ileenium to see Obi-Wan retake his throne.

 

Despite the ten year difference between them, Prince Hamaal became infatuated with the noblewoman upon reaching his majority.  Widowed at that point with no children of her own, she was still a marketable match despite her earlier ties to the short-lived Skywalker reign.  

 

Hamaal penned poems and showered gifts of posies and trinkets upon the woman all for naught.  Never satisfied in Ileenium after the death of her monarchs, Ahsoka longed to return to the homeland of her forefathers.  She acquiesced to a second marriage in Tatooine thus dashing the hopes of Hamaal of making her his bride.

 

Rey often wondered how her mother, beautiful and well bred in her own right, managed to live up to the infamy of Lady Tano during the early years of her marriage to Hamaal.

 

“I regret the death of your father, Rey.  If I was present-”

 

Her cousin’s attempt at soothing her melancholy stirred her thoughts back to the present.

 

“No one expected him to be assassinated,” she stipulated, her chest clenching at the offending word.

 

“It would pain me knowing you were in harm's way as well, had you been in attendance.”

 

Hamaal had departed on a hunting excursion with the noblemen closest to him on the day he was unjustly murdered.  Both her uncle and cousin normally were included in the class of men but had declined due to Rikard’s recent ague.

  
Perhaps their lives had been saved in not attending their king that fateful day.  There was as good a chance as any that the assassin's arrow could have shifted ever so slightly and pierced the body of another.  She shuddered at the very possibility.

 

Poe dropped to one knee before her, startling her at the quick movement.  For a brief second she feared the rumors to be true and that her mother and uncle had coerced him into requesting her hand.  

 

“You must know that the Damerons and our bannermen will defend your right to the throne, Rey,” he declared, taking her hand and settling it gently between both of his.  The tension that seized her shoulders moments before relaxed at the display of loyalty.  What lay unspoken between them was the possibility of political upheaval.

 

Never before had a female been declared heir to the throne, and an unmarried one at that.  There were plenty of claimants to the throne after her, some perhaps inclined to think themselves better candidates than a woman.  Her choice in spouse would need to be conducted quickly yet the decision required much thought.

 

Marrying a foreigner ran the potential of angering the common people as well as a good deal of the nobles.  If she was to marry outside her kingdom she could not crown her husband in fear of others detesting the idea of being ruled by a foreign king.  Finding a foreign husband, then, would be increasingly difficult as she imagined there would be few eligible men that would be content with holding the title of mere ‘consort’ while their wife wielded power.  

 

A match made within the kingdom was her best option although her choices were still fraught with difficulty.  Choosing which family to marry into, and thus creating a new royal dynasty, obliged careful consideration.  It would be ideal for her to choose one of the families that shared royal blood with the Kenobis.  There were few prospects, and none of them exceptionally enticing to her.

 

A knock at the chamber door had Poe hastily rising to his feet and taking a step away in deference to the monarch.  He knew as well as her that lips flew loosely about Republica and that, had anyone seen him before her as he had moments earlier, word would spread that she’d chosen a consort.  

 

The wimple covered head of one of her maids poked into the room before she opened the door further to expose herself.  

 

“Your Grace,” she said, dipping into a curtsey.  Her gaze moved to Poe before ducking to the floor, cheeks coloring.  “My lord.”

 

Rey bit the inside of her cheek to keep from rolling her eyes at her cousin’s silent, smug pride.  He was a dashing man, she had to admit, which she knew him to recognize within himself.  No doubt he was pleased with the shyness of the maid.

 

“A gift from Duke Hux has arrived for your Grace,” the young woman said, having found her voice after recovering.

 

Rey nodded in thanks before sweeping out of her bed chamber to her sitting room.  She checked at the elaborate bolts of cloth resting upon the two finely upholstered chairs by the fire.  One of the chambermaids, currently tending the fire, cast a speculative look upon the lengths of silk and satin. 

 

This was not a gift to ease the gloom of her father’s passing.  The yards of expensive cloth were brightly colored, not the dark blue or white of mourning.  

 

The gift was an ostentatious sign of courting.

 

“My lord is too bold,” she commented, eyes narrowing at the array.  Poe shifted awkwardly beside her, uncertain of what to say at the outright interest Duke Hux was showing in her.  The Damerons and the Huxes had never been especially friendly toward one another, making it a difficulty for Poe to bite his tongue in regard to the courting gift.

 

Hux, a distant cousin of Rey, could trace his family connections to the throne back to King Carth Kenobi. Carth’s sister, Kreia, wed Rainor Hux shortly before the arrival of Revan and the deposing of Carth.  Her son with Rainor was the duke’s ancestor, making Kreia a common link for both Rey and the duke.  

 

Had the law Rey’s father put into action concerning the inheritance of the throne through the female line been active during the reign of Carth, it would’ve been the elder Kreia and not younger brother  Atton who took the throne after the defeat of Revan.  

 

Rey thought she would have more time to choose her spouse, certainly at least a few months after the burial of her father.  It seemed that already the wolves were descending upon her, with her father not yet below ground.

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Two weeks later found a note presented to the Princess of Alderaan by one of her father’s councilmen as she was holding court on King Bail’s behalf.  With the king entering his seventies, an age not many reached in Alderaan, the princess found herself acting more often on behalf of her adoptive father.  The woman tucked the missive into the trumpet sleeve of her gown, taking note of the grim expression of the elderly noble.  The note was nearly forgotten by the princess until her ladies undressed her for bed.  

 

Leia Organa withdrew the folded parchment from her sleeve to read after the departure of her ladies.  When the last young woman departed the fifty-year old broke the wax seal of the note to read it.

 

She scanned the missive, brows arching ever so slightly at what was written.

 

Had she the ambition or enjoyment for bloodshed she might’ve taken the death of Hamaal as a sign that once more a Skywalker should take the throne of Ileenium.  It was her brother, not her, that held precedence in the order of inheritance.  If he was to act on his position as heir to the former king….

 

No; she wasn’t that type of person.  She wouldn’t alter worlds and tear apart countries for the sake of grasping the throne of a nation she’d never stepped foot in nor had any current connections to.  Nor would her brother; Luke was an archbishop in Tatooine, not a serious claimant of a throne.

 

Leia set aside the letter before kneeling at her prayer dieu for her nightly talk with God.  

 

Though she nor her brother would act on the death of Hamaal, she was certain there would be quite a shake-up in Ileenium in the near future. 

  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for your kind words and Kudos!
> 
> You'll see some mentions from the Expanded Universe throughout this fic such as places and characters. Ex. Tatoo, the seat of the Skywalkers, is taken from one of the twins suns of Tatooine.
> 
> I've attached two maps as well to this chapter for clarity: one of Ileenium and it's surrounding countries as well as a map of Ileenium. The map of Ileenium also notes royal residences.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for news of updates and other posts: beyond-this-illusion.tumblr.com

 

 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A white linen chemise was placed over the head of the shivering young woman.   Winter seemed especially unforgiving this year; she couldn’t recall ever feeling so cold when exposed to the outside air, or seen the ice of the river so thick.  Despite the freezing temperature she would’ve normally taken advantage of the frozen river to glide upon with her skates.  The blades of iron, strapped to her boots, allowed her to drift over the ice rather than tread upon it.  

 

It was far too dangerous to do so as she’d been reminded, countlessly, by her mother and the Regency Council.  She shouldn’t dare go out on the river while her father’s assassin could still be lurking about.  To her consternation, as well as the rest of the nobles, the villain had yet to be found. 

 

That he was proving to be so treacherous in eluding arrest lent itself to the rumor that the assassin was no disgruntled subject but a professional killer.  For, the rumors questioned, who else could hit a mark so deadly and deliberately without drawing the attention of any members of the hunting party her father had been with?   
  


Rey by no means meant to live her life in seclusion until the assassin was caught. She refused to live her life in fear and thus hide herself from the eyes of her subjects.  During the first few months of mourning for her father it was to be expected that she keep in seclusion, yet the commons would not be appeased with the excuse for long.  After the unsteadiness of the kingdom during her grandfather’s reign, the time for a strong ruler was at hand. The people would demand to see her thriving and crowned.

 

She would ensure that her health was satisfactory and that she appeared cheerful to her subjects.

 

Her coronation would, unfortunately, have to wait.

 

In her father’s will it was written that his only child and heir would be subjected to a Regency Council if he was to perish before his heir’s majority was reached. The Council would effectively rule in her stead.   As Rey was only nineteen and not yet the twenty-one of majority, she was unfortunately bound to the whims of the Council.  

 

If she was to marry before twenty-one she could be crowned, as was stipulated in her father’s will.  It seemed, with general opinion that a female as sole ruler was unwise, that she would be married before she reached her majority.  The option of her husband was blessedly hers alone to make.

 

It rankled her that she was seen as weak due to her sex.  She wasn’t daft; her education rivaled those of the young men that attended university.  Just because she was of the descendants of Eve she was declared far too delicate to make decisions for the good of her kingdom.  She didn’t enjoy being held up to the mistake of one woman thousands of years prior.

 

Her dressing was hastily finished by her two ladies in order to shield her from the chilly temperature.  Upon finishing she led the way out of her chambers, both gently born women trailing after her.  

 

The chapel was far colder than her bedchamber causing her to shiver through the majority of mass.  When she returned to her quarters to break her fast it was with the relief of knowing that she could sit beside a warm fire to defrost.  

 

Her chance at a quiet moment alone was dashed once she returned to her chambers to find a note awaiting her.  An emergency meeting of the Council was being held within the quarter hour and her presence was requested.

 

She didn’t have much of a say on the matters of the Council despite her title.  As she was yet to be crowned, and still under the majority age, she was to be ‘guided’ by those chosen by her father before his death for her council.  The five members of the Council were of the highest social and economical caliber of the kingdom.  

 

Besides her mother and uncle, the Council included Duke Brendol Hux, Archbishop Lor San Tekka, and Jedi Knight Streen.  Hux was a distant cousin and her premier marriage prospect, though she detested the very idea of ruling beside him. His ostentatious gift after the death of her father still wounded her, now two months after the burial.

 

Archbishop Lor San Tekka of Coruscant was the leading holy man in the kingdom, being the one to crown the monarch of Ileenium.  During his tenure as Archbishop of Coruscant he’d the privilege of crowning three kings: Anakin, Obi-Wan upon his return to the kingdom, and Hamaal.  He was a man of many years, though she wasn’t sure exactly how many he held.  He’d always seemed ancient to her as a child, only appearing older as she grew.  The archbishop was a kindly, scholarly man who she enjoyed speaking with.

 

Streen she had little history with, what with him being the leader of the Jedi Knights.  Her father trusted him enough to place him on her Council, which spoke for his character.

 

Upon entering the council chamber, a room off of her father’s former quarters, she found the assortment of councillors waiting for her.  They stood at spotting her, making their bows in deference to her status.  A nod from the queen had them sitting once more.

 

“What is this ‘urgent matter’?” she inquired as she took a seat upon the plush chair at the end of the table.  

 

Her uncle, seated to her left, made a motion to speak only to be cut off by Duke Hux.

 

“There is talk of discontent in the south, Your Highness,” he said, ignoring the look of distaste shot to him by Earl Dameron.  

 

“With the recent harsh weather, the region of Tatoo has found themselves lacking the livestock and food to last the rest of the winter.  A mob has done considerable damage to the home of the tax collector.  It may be simply rabble rousing peasants, but there is the danger of growth of their numbers.”

 

Rey tapped a ringed finger on the armrest of her chair as she considered the news.

 

Tatoo was once the seat of the Skywalkers but was without a lord to oversee it since Anakin’s downfall.  The land was technically Rey’s; in actuality the entire kingdom was her land, yet parcels of it were gifted to noble families.  The lands that she held under her own name included the Kenobi’s hereditary seat of Stewjon.  

 

Upon her father’s death she inherited Scipio through King Rasheen’s marriage to Countess Miriam Clovis.  She would’ve held Mandalore as well, as her grandmother was once a duchess from the region, except that the title and subsequent land was bequeathed to Rey’s mother upon her marriage to Hamaal.  

 

Tatoo was hers, yet she didn’t style herself as such.  The title held sour connotations to the brief reign of Skywalker and bloodshed during his kingship.  

 

“How was the harvest in Tatoo this past season, Uncle?” she requested, skipping over the smug features of her cousin to her mother’s brother.  

 

Her father once ruled his kingdom nearly all on his own with little help from ministers or secretaries.  He’d once explained to her that to do so and not delegate such work allowed for a closer connection between ruler and subjects.  It also accounted for less money grabbing or corruption among noblemen charged with affairs of the Crown.

 

Her uncle, upon the death of Hamaal, was bequeathed with the tiresome job of overseeing the kingdom’s finances.

 

“Dismal, Your Highness,” he reported, causing her to frown.  “His late Highness ordered supplies sent to Tatoo in December before…”  He cut himself off, taking a moment to reflect upon the departed king, before continuing.  “I imagine the people of Tatoo, though much grieved by the death of their king, were relying upon the supplies to tide them over the winter.”

 

Rey felt shame run hot down her back at the oversight.  It was impossible for her to have known, what with the events following her father’s death, but she still felt responsible for the missed delivery.  The thought of her subjects suffering because of her mistake made her stomach twist uncomfortably.

 

“Double the supplies that were to be sent two months prior will be delivered with all haste,” she declared, earning a nod from the assembled group. 

 

“Efforts should be taken to ensure that no additional strife takes place, Your Highness,” Hux added, a glimmer of excitement hiding within his eyes.  

 

“I am more than happy to oversee the delivery as well as the dispersing of the mob,” he declared, ignoring the barely restrained eye roll of her uncle.

 

Her mother, never one to stay silent among men, chose to interject.

 

“Surely the Earl can handle such a task, R-Your Highness,” she said, correcting herself before speaking her daughter’s Christian name plainly.  A slight tint crossed the dowager queen’s cheeks at her faux pas.

 

It made Rey uncomfortable to know that she was higher than her mother in rank.  Where she once walked a pace behind Cleera when entering the Great Hall or during other events, Cleera would now be trailing her.  

 

If she had her way she would keep everything the same; she would still be a princess, her mother above her, her father alive…..

 

It wasn’t to be.

 

Lord Streen raised a brow at the obvious snub to the Jedi Knights. It seemed that such a task would fall into their realm of influence though Cleera had skipped over them entirely to suggest her brother.

 

Rey loved her mother dearly, yet she was loyal to a fault to her birth family.

 

Tension in her brow at having the five members of the council looking at her expectantly for her answer led her to make a hasty decision.

 

Though she did not rule yet, such matters were given her input.  They could be contested by the members of the Council but, with loyalties divided amongst them, she was given the chance to make an official decision.

 

“His Grace the Duke will oversee the supplies,” she declared, feeling rather than seeing the smug smile gracing the lips of the red headed man. He had military experience, having accompanied his father on a campaign to Yavin years ago to help with against the invading Ewok clan of Endor.  He could put down a simple rebellion, she was certain.

 

“The leaders of the rebellion will be given light sentences for ransacking the tax collector’s home,” she stipulated, eyes swiveling to the duke.  “None of the others are to be tried.  If we use a heavy hand in response to our own mistake the commons will not be pleased.”

 

That there were surely Skywalker sympathizers still amongst those of Tatoo was a fact that need not be uttered.  If they were to treat the situation harshly it would only give Skywalker supporters more fodder.

 

The duke bowed his head in deference, signalling the matter closed.

 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Just as a heavy blanket of snow smothered the landscape, the dreariness of mourning cloaked the royal court.  With the coming of March preparations should be put into motion for the events of the following season.  Springtime was a time of gaiety and amusement after the chill of winter.  Yet no one dared think of such events with the period of royal mourning not yet halfway finished.  

 

For kings the period of court mourning could last anywhere from six months to a year, depending on the whim of the new monarch.  During the period dress was subdued to dark blue of mourning.  Music was hushed, dancing nonexistent, and revelry halted. 

 

As a child she’d found the period of Lent, though religiously important, to be a trying time for an exuberant child.  Lent was much like royal mourning, she now realized, with the importance of piety and demureness being heralded. 

 

Where she would’ve once had music being played in her apartments as her ladies sewed, she now had the lone voice of Lady Pava reading passages from the Bible to treat her ears.

 

Bent over her needlework, and thus not having her eyes on Jessika, Rey was still able to tell when her lady-in-waiting’s attention began to wane.  

 

More than once Rey had caught the noblewoman making eyes at Poe, who was more often than not among them.  

 

He’d brought Lord Wexley with him to ‘enjoy the grace of the company of Her Majesty and Her ladies’ as he’d said.  

 

The comment had made her ladies titter in amusement though it earned a barely restrained eye roll from Rey.

 

Her mother remained present among the group of young women, ever the watchful chaperone though even she wasn’t immune to the charming nature of her nephew.

 

A messenger disrupted the charming tableau, guided by Rey’s usher.

 

For a moment she was reminded of the dreaded afternoon in which a messenger had interrupted a sewing session such as this to give the news of her father’s death.

 

She chased away the pallor that threatened to overcome her by nodding to the usher to depart. 

 

The messenger bowed before presenting the letter to the queen, who then directed one of her ladies to procure a coin from the coffer within the bedchamber for the weary looking man.  Only when the messenger left did Rey open the missive to read its contents.

 

Her eyes scanned the letter three times before she raised her gaze.  By then color had invaded her cheeks, making them burn scarlet.

 

She stood without warning, causing the rest of the nobles seated to rise as well.

 

She silently strode out of the sitting room and into her bedchamber in order to no longer need to mask her fury.  Her mother hurriedly trailed after her, shutting the door to the bedchamber to give them privacy.

 

“That….that….that oaf!”  

 

Rey fumed, her ire raised at the contents of the letter.  She thrust it toward her mother in order for her to read its contents, written on the events of Tatoo a week and a half after the Council Meeting..  The dowager queen’s brows rose as she scanned the lines of neat writing.

 

“He’s ruined everything!”

 

Rey tore off her snood of gold lace, tossing the hair net upon her bed.  She ran her fingers through her dark tresses in an effort to stem her anger.

 

“I told him to treat the troublemakers lightly,” she said, rounding on her heel to face her mother.  

 

“Did I not?”

 

“Rey-”

 

“And he went and  _ hanged _ them!”

 

The people of Tatoo, discontent over the missing supplies, must now truly detest the Crown after Hux’s actions she feared.  Her head spun as she tried to think of a way to soothe the mistake made, though she knew nothing would bring back the lives of the men executed.

 

She slid down to her bed, hands resting in her silk covered lap.

 

“I can’t marry him.  I won’t!”

 

She’d been trying to avoid thinking about the decision of a  husband until the period of mourning was over yet fate seemed to plan differently. 

 

She was kidding herself if Hux wasn’t her only option outside of a foreign prince.  No other man of marriageable age held such a high title within the kingdom, and with ties to the crown to boot..  There were plenty of young men lower in rank, though it wouldn’t do to dip down so low.

 

Her mother moved to sit beside her daughter, gently placing her hand on the girl’s back.  Rey took the gesture as an invitation to rest her head upon her mother’s shoulder, feeling Cleera’s fingers drifting through her hair.  Her eyes slid closed from the ministrations, helping to calm her.

 

“What Hux did was vile and uncalled for,” her mother murmured, earning a noise of agreement from her daughter.

 

“It would be an unwise choice to choose him as your husband simply because he is of the highest rank in the kingdom.” 

 

She hesitated, which should’ve warned Rey what her mother was going to say.  Unfortunately the younger woman was far too distracted by the anger and grief that filled her from Hux’s note.

 

“Viscount Dameron would  be an advantageous choice, no?  He will inherit his father’s earldom and holds connections to the throne through the Jinn line-”

 

Rey’s eyes flew open, dread being added to the range of emotions she was experiencing.  She knew that her mother would eventually suggest her own nephew to her, going as far as stressing his official title.  

 

She couldn’t choose a member of her mother’s family.  Favoring the Damerons, her maternal relatives, would undoubtedly spark discontent among the other nobles.

 

“-surely you’ll think on it?”

 

Rey wet her lips to give her a moment to form a reply that wouldn’t upset her mother.  

 

“I’ll think on it,” she said as she raised her head, meeting her mother’s gaze.  The older woman’s dazzling smile spoke of the belief that Cleera had in her daughter’s statement.

 

Rey kept silent as the dowager kissed her forehead, wondering how she could manage to remedy the situation she was currently thrust into.

 

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Ensconced in one of the confessionals in Coruscant Cathedral, Rey await the arrival of the Archbishop.  She’d spent the previous night tossing and turning in bed as her mind raced over a solution to her predicament to the Tatoo incident as well as a marriage prospect substitution for Hux.

 

Rey knew she couldn’t speak candidly to her uncle or mother on the issue, as they would rally against Hux and push forward Poe.  

 

Hux couldn’t be trusted,  she now knew.

 

Lord Streen wouldn’t concern himself with such matters, too caught up in the Knights.

 

That left the elderly Archbishop to seek advice from.

 

When giving confession she normally spoke with the priest of the chapel at Republica, yet it wasn’t unheard of for her to journey to Coruscant Cathedral to speak to the Archbishop.  It was with that fact in mind that she took a trip from the castle across the city to the cathedral, accompanied by an assortment of Jedi Knights.

 

Her stomach flipped nervously as she heard the elderly man sit down heavily on the other side of the confessional.  Through the lattice separating each side of the confessional she could only see his profile.  

 

“Your Grace I come here to speak not of my sins but of a pressing matter,” she said hastily before he could launch into his standard opening.

 

Silence from the other side of the confessional encouraged her to continue her whispered speech.

 

“As of last night’s Council Meeting you are now aware of what transpired in Tatoo under Duke Hux’s command.  I cannot stand aside and allow such insubordination to go unacknowledged.  That he’s killed in my name- the Crown’s name- cannot be ignored either.  I know he is the premier choice for my spouse within the kingdom, yet I cannot reconcile myself to a life with him.”

 

She took a shuddering breath, wondering how betrayed her mother would feel that her daughter was going to a archbishop for marriage prospects rather than her. 

 

“My mother and uncle are campaigning for my cousin Dameron.  It would be utterly foolish for me to choose him, despite how agreeable of a young man he is.”  

 

Her cheeks flushed red at speaking of such qualities before the holy man, making her thankful that Lor could not see her face.

“There is the option of a foreign prince though that is a risky choice in itself.  You are the only member of the council that is impartial and thus I come to you for advice on this matter.”

 

Silence weighed between them as she waited for the man to speak.

 

As the seconds ticked she feared that the elderly archbishop had fallen asleep and that she’d spoken her hurried plea for naught.

 

“The wisest course of action would be to choose a nobleman with ties to the crown,” he started, sending her stomach plummeting.

 

“That leaves only Hux-”

  
“There is another,” he interrupted her, halting her panic.

 

“King Aldric left behind three children: Carth, Kreia, and Atton.  Kreia married first into Hux before wedding into Skywalker upon Rainor’s death.”

 

He paused, as if the answer was overtly clear.

 

Her hesitance in answering spoke of her limited understanding.

 

“The Skywalker line was continued with the usurper, King Anakin,” she stated, recalling her history lessons.  “His son is now the Archbishop of Mos Eisley in Tatooine, is he not?” 

 

She was glad for Luke’s profession as, if he were not a member of the church, he would certainly be the next available candidate.  That he was fifty years of age would be overlooked.

 

“He is.  No, I do not speak of Luke as a candidate for your hand,” the man continued, shaking his head.  “His sister, Leia of Alderaan, has a son.  He, due to his uncle’s lack of heirs, carries the Skywalker claim.”

 

Rey’s brow furrowed as she considered the information.  She couldn’t recall ever hearing about a son of the Princess of Alderaan, though she admittedly didn’t follow the lives of either of the Skywalker twins as they were the product of the man who’d usurped her grandfather.

 

“Who is he?” she inquired, wondering if this was her only way out of a lifetime shackled to Brendol Hux.

  
“Lord Benjamin Solo was his birth name,” Lor began, “though now he goes by the name Kylo Ren.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for your kind words and Kudos! We're chugging along with this plot. I'm glad most of you don't seemed put off by the world building; quite a bit of it is required for this particular plot. 
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for Reylo and other fandoms! : beyond-this-illusion.tumblr.com

Trying to find information about Kylo Ren was far more difficult than she imagined.

She couldn’t make inquiries outright as she didn’t want anyone to know that she was considering him as a potential match. Nor could she trust the rumor mill of the royal court to give her a proper description of the man. 

The only way to find out more information about the candidate was to go to the ambassador of Alderaan. Not being able to meet with ambassadors formally as she had yet to be crowned, Rey was faced with a predicament in speaking with him. Decorum didn’t allow for her to call upon him at leisure, nor could she set an appointment for him to speak with her.

Jessika solved the dilemma in taking notice of the ambassador’s morning routine in order to find an opening for Rey to cross his path. The foreign man was commonly seen walking the gardens shortly after Mass, despite the winter chill. What Jessika garnered from one of the ambassador’s chamber women was that elderly man had an uncomfortable condition of the bowels; daily walks were said to help ease his discomfort.

Grasping such information, Rey decided to use it to her advantage.

The cold air nipped at her exposed skin as she stepped beyond the refuge of the castle walls to the snowy garden. Her fur lined cloak did little to shield her from the bite of the icy weather leaving her to wonder how the elderly admiral managed to withstand the wintery temperature. 

Admiral Ackbar, once an accomplished military man of Alderaan, served as ambassador for King Bail since the end of the Skywalker reign. Rey’s grandfather had not held Alderaan nor Tatooine responsible for taking in the Skywalker twins. He had not wished to inflict retribution upon Skywalker’s widow, though some called for blood to be shed in revenge of that of Lady Vesta and her kin.

There existed an unspoken tension between Ileenium and the two nations for a few years after Obi-Wan took back the throne, though it was never acted upon. By the time of Rey’s birth the ‘awkwardness’ of their political relationships had healed, time being a major factor.

She strolled along the snowy path in the accompaniment of two of her ladies, pretending as if it was completely normal for her to strut out into the freezing cold. It didn’t take her long at all to come across the admiral shuffling through the garden.

“Your Excellency,” she greeted, cheeks rosy from both the chill as well as the exertion of taking a brisk walk.

The admiral bowed at the waist, his movement rigid. She didn’t take the motion for disdain or reluctance to show proper homage to her. He was an elderly man, nearly as old as the king that he served, and the cold most likely did his weary bones no favors.  
“Your Grace,” he uttered, words tinged with the accent of the northern regions of Alderaan. 

“I see you, too, have come to enjoy the fresh air of the gardens,” he continued, betraying no surprise at seeing her among the snow. 

She smiled, the gesture bright, and nodded.

“I have. Fresh air is good for one’s health, is it not?”

It was a contested issue among physicians though she always felt better in the open air of the countryside rather than the polluted of the cities.

Her comment seemed to please the elderly statesmen who nodded in return.

“May I have the honor of escorting you, Your Grace?” he inquired to which she gladly took his arm. 

Talk drifted to pleasantries as she inquired after his health as well as that of the elderly King Bail. From what she knew of Alderaan, Bail’s adopted daughter effectively ruled in his stead. The king was frail from a prolonged illness as well as his advanced age, leaving his ability to run his kingdom in doubt. It was Princess Leia Organa- Leia Skywalker- that took care of her adoptive father’s accounts and handled matters of state. She’d been called Lady Solo as well, though her husband passed nearly five years ago. 

As the cold began to seep further into her bones Rey was spurred to jump to her point in meeting with the ambassador.

“I have quite a….delicate matter to inquire after,” she began, trying to phrase her words as best as she could.

“I wish for you tell me what you know of your lord’s grandson, Lord Ren.”

Her arm tucked within the man’s, she couldn’t miss the tensing up of his body.

“Lord Ren?” he repeated, as if he hadn’t heard her correctly. Had it not been for his obvious hesitation, a failure of his courtly skill at hiding his thoughts, she would’ve thought his hearing inadequate.

Her nod affirmed that he’d heard correctly though it appeared that he wished that he hadn’t.

His thoughts upon the matter were once more masked as a neutral expression dominated his features.

“The princess married a nobleman from Corellia, Your Grace. Lord Ren is their only child.”

She did her best not to sigh at the lackluster answer.

“I heard his Christian name is not ‘Ren’, though,” she insisted gently, trying to pry more information from the admiral. “But that he was born as Benjamin Solo.”

The admiral nodded as they continued their stroll across the snow lined path.

“You heard true, Your Grace,” he affirmed. “Upon joining the ranks of the Knights of Ren he acquired a new name; it’s customary, from what I’ve heard.”

Her memory was pricked at the name of the elite group of knights. She’d heard of them though she hadn’t studied them extensively during her lessons; a group of foreign knights wasn’t exactly included in her curriculum.

“They are from Moraband in Generis, aren’t they?” she asked earning her yet another nod of affirmation. 

“Their headquarters are located there, yes. Lord Ren left Alderaan nearly nine years ago to join their ranks. He is an elite member, nearly as high in command as Lord Snoke.”

She digested the information for a moment, her concentration so strong that she barely felt the cold any longer. Her ladies were not so lucky as they tightened their cloaks about them to preserve warmth.

“I imagine he must have plenty of prospects of marriage, what with his impending inheritance of Alderaan and his position among the Knights,” she queried, hoping that the subtle hint would be enough for the elderly admiral to grasp.

He paused, causing her to stop as well.

“I’m afraid Lord Ren has no claim to the throne of Alderaan,” he began, his cheeks tinging a pinkish color that she attributed to embarrassment about the situation rather than the cold. 

“Princess Leia’s marriage to Lord Solo was….not sanctioned by the king or his council,” he explained, giving reason for his sudden awkwardness. 

“It caused quite the bit of controversy. His Majesty adores his adoptive daughter very much, you must understand,” he added, as if needing to justify the decision. “But few would abide by the son of a minor Corellian lord becoming king.”

It made far more sense to her now why a grandson of the King of Alderaan would flee his home country to shed his name and family. 

Their circuit ceased as they reached the exit of the gardens, causing Rey to come to a decision.

“Though Lord Ren does not carry a claim to the throne of Alderaan, he does have ties to Ileenium,” she commented as they stepped into the corridor that lined the garden. “I wish for you to make inquiries to the princess as to her son’s suitability for marriage.”

Once more the admiral was not able to withhold an impartial expression.

“Who am I to be putting forth as a candidate, Your Grace?” he asked, clearly not expecting her to be speaking of herself.

She withdrew her arm back to her side as she adjusted her cloak.

“Tell the princess that Queen Rey Kenobi wishes to consider a marriage with Lord Ren.”

She nodded in farewell, leaving the admiral visibly stunned.

\------------

“What is this pressing matter which you wrote of?”

Three days later found her striding into the council chamber with a letter clutched in her hand, her uncle’s writing visible upon the parchment.

Her mind had been filled with doubts over her conversation with the admiral and whether or not she was acting in her best interests. Though she knew little of Lord Ren he seemed to be a better candidate than Hux could ever be.

She doubted that if she was to propose marriage to Hux right now he wouldn’t accept strictly to spite her after the upbraiding she’d given him after his misconduct in Tatoo. She’d chastised him before the rest of the council upon his return, causing him to turn an interesting shade of puce in response to her criticism. It hadn’t surprised her in the least that he retreated to his estate the next day without a word of farewell.

The council, minus Hux, rose at her entrance. She hastily waved her hand to dismiss them, having no need for such etiquette at the current moment. Her interest was caught by the cause of the meeting, causing her to swivel her gaze to her uncle in expectancy..

“More news from Tatoo, Your Grace,” Rikard began. “Duke Hux’s….measures did little to prevent instability. We’ve news of a grievous insult to your grandfather; portraits of King Obi-Wan have reportedly been destroyed in recent days.”

Her ire rose at the lack of respect toward her grandfather though she found the source of her frustration toward Hux. Had he listened to her and not enacted his own twisted sense of justice, Tatoo would be in a state of peace rather than turmoil.

Her doubts over her conversation with the admiral were instantly eased as her decision became clear.

“I suppose this would be an adequate time to inform you all that I have taken measures in securing a marriage alliance,” she stated, earning a few thinly veiled looks of surprise among those on her council.

“After much consideration I have come to the decision that a marriage with one of the great noble houses of our kingdom will not be advisable.”

The glimmer of hope she’d spotted in her mother’s features was extinguished in that instant. Had she spared her uncle a look she would’ve noticed frustration present on his.

“Rey-”

She raised a hand to cut off her mother’s speech.

“Favoring one family over another will create jealousies that I do not wish myself or my descendants to deal with,” she elaborated. 

“You’ve surely taken note of the issues involving a foreign match,” her uncle reminded her, his tone a bit more clipped than she expected. It seemed to her that her mother hadn’t been the only one hoping for a Dameron-Kenobi match.

“I’ve found a solution to the issues in which you speak,” Rey said with a shake of her head. “There is a foreigner with a distant claim to the throne, one who can trace his lineage back to the sister of Kings Carth and Atton.”

The archbishop hid a small smile as he ducked his head, knowing who the queen spoke of.

“The daughter of the pretender, Leia Organa, has a son. I’ve made inquiries to Alderaan about a possible match.”

She hadn’t expected so deafening of a response.

\----

Nine years of living in Generis and he still hadn’t developed a taste for the warmer climate. As much as he didn’t wish to be reminded of his home country, the dark haired knight missed the cooler temperatures and the snow peaked mountains of Alderaan. There was something calming and serene about the cold that was lacking in Generis.

Kylo Ren reviewed the assortment of brushes in the tack box before him, choosing one with soft bristles. His brushed the coat of the bay gelding before him, listening to the animal munching on hay. As second in command of the Knights of Ren he’d made a point to instill a sense of responsibility toward one’s mount among the knights. A knight without a horse was nothing, he’d told his men. If one’s mount didn’t respect it’s rider it could mean death upon the battlefield.

The belief was why he tried to take as much care with his horse as possible. The relationship the two had formed was solid, making it seem as if they were one being when they rode. Good horsemanship was one of the only traits that he valued from his derelict father. 

“Lord Ren?”

He looked up from the shiny coat of the animal to find one of the younger trainees peering into the horse’s stall in search of him.

Once he was spotted the boy ducked his head in deference.

“Supreme Leader wishes to speak with you, my lord.”

Such a summons from Lord Snoke wasn’t out of the ordinary, leading Kylo to bear no worry as he passed off the brush to the boy to finish grooming the horse.

The nobleman crossed the courtyard of the Knight’s headquarters, able to hear the clash of steel upon the training yard on the other side. The Knights of Ren were an elite group, famed for their knowledge of combat and the art of the sword. Those training to enter their numbers were faced with an extreme regimen of combat practice, fitness, and meditation. Few made it through the series of tests to enter their ranks.

Entering the citadel he began the ascent to Lord Snoke’s chambers, faintly curious as to what the man wished to discuss. Upon entering the audience chamber he waved away the pair of Knights standing guard, not wishing to have interlopers present.

“You wished to speak with me, Supreme Leader?” he asked, bowing at the waist to the elderly man.

Snoke was wizened, older even than Ren’s adoptive grandfather. That he still took an active role in the running of the Knights made him even more prestigious in Kylo’s regard compared to Bail, who left the responsibility of kingship to his daughter.

He was glad he no longer was attached to the Organas or Solo.

“An interesting missive has arrived from your mother,” Snoke said as he gestured toward an open letter upon the table by the empty fireplace. It was addressed to Kylo though it clearly hadn’t stopped Snoke from opening it. The nobleman’s trust in the Supreme Leader was so concrete that the action didn’t raise any concern within him.

“The son of the usurper Kenobi died months ago, leaving only a daughter behind. The old man enacted a law to allow her to rule despite her gender.”

The garbled chuckle that arose from the wrinkled throat exposed Snoke’s thoughts on the matter of a female ruler.

“She’s requested information regarding a match with you, and whether you and your mother would be accepting of such an overture.”

Kylo’s brows rose at the unexpected news. 

“She would dare stoop to a marriage alliance when Ileenium is hers for the taking?” he snapped, cursing his mother’s stupidity. 

“An unmarried girl-”

“Makes for the perfect opportunity for you to finish what your esteemed grandfather started,” finished Snoke, watching as the tension lessened ever so slightly from his protege’s shoulders.

“Sit, Lord Ren,” Supreme Leader said as he gestured to one of the plush chairs by the empty hearth.

“And let us discuss the possibility of a Skywalker king once more upon the throne of Ileenium.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll get a meeting between these two soon as well as the appearance of Finn!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your comments and kudos. I enjoy hearing from you and knowing that the fic is enjoyed. 
> 
> Finally we get to our first meeting!

‘We would very much like to meet with you and discuss the possibility of a marriage uniting our two houses.’

The words were forever etched into her memory in the precise handwriting of the Princess of Alderaan. It was agreed upon that, within a month’s time, both parties would meet in neutral territory to discuss the possibility of marriage. Rey was admittedly nervous about the meeting as she dearly wanted it to go smoothly. Though she was by no means eager to be married she knew there would be some benefits from making a match; she would be crowned and the issue of finding an appropriate husband would no longer be a problem.

“Finn, my hand is cramping.”

“Just a few more moments, Your Grace. Surely you do not wish for me to lose my place and produce a lackluster representation of your beauty?”

The sycophantic words were not taken seriously in the least by the queen, knowing that Finn was simply teasing her. His wide grin from where he was perched before his easel supported her mental observation. 

“There!” he said after a few seconds, setting down his paintbrush and thus allowing her set down the heavy tome in her hands. She made a show of stretching her left hand and wrist, earning a chuckle from her friend. 

The brunette joined him before his easel to appraise his work. 

“You certainly have a talent,” she complimented him, eyes roving over the half-finished portrait. His apparent talent was one of the reasons his family sent him to Yavin to study under the great painters. She’d missed him terribly the last three years but was glad his time away had improved his abilities. 

Upon his departure she’d told him that she would establish him as her court painter in the future, and meant it fully. 

The portrait, spanning her upper body, held a regal quality that was lacking in others completed during her youth. Though uncrowned she looked undeniably queenly in the image garbed in purple velvet and wearing an assortment of jewels. The leather bound book in her hand spoke of her intelligence and love of learning, while the arms of Kenobi hanging behind her stated her lineage. The woman staring back at her viewed her with a strong gaze with only the slightest hint of amusement around her eyes. 

She knew how vital it was that she appeared strong and not the uncertain nineteen year old that she was.

“I won’t need you for the rest,” Finn explained as he went about tidying his paints. “If I need your gown for reference I can always speak to your wardrobe mistress.” He bit his lip to contain a chuckle which earned an eye roll from Rey. She didn’t need for him to speak to know that he would’ve made a comment about the woman’s ample bosom.

She chastised him despite his silence by lightly tapping his arm.

“I know you’ve only just returned, but thank you for coming so quickly. I understand you would want to be with your family after being away for so long.”

As soon as she’d gotten word that he was returning to his aunt’s estate Rey had sent for her friend. To help sway the Princess of Alderaan she thought to commission a portrait to be sent to the court of King Bail. Her ambassador could spew all he wanted of her virtues and behavior, yet more often than not in the marriage market ‘showing’ worked better than ‘telling’. 

Finn shrugged as he latched the enameled box that held his painting supplies.

“Aunt Maz managed well enough on her own for the past few years. I don’t think she minded lending me for a week or two.”

Lady Maz Kanata was a force to be reckoned with.

The younger sister of Lord Mace Windu, she inherited the family lands of Takodana after Windu’s execution at the hands of King Skywalker. She raised her nephew Finn after the death of his father and mother, Finn’s mother being her younger sister.. Finn was set to inherit upon the death of his aunt, what with his own mother being deceased. Though,with her aptitude for longevity, there was a good chance Finn would be bringing home his eventual bride to live alongside his aunt.

“Nevertheless, send her my ‘thanks’ for lending you to me. I would very much like her to come to court soon.”

“I’ll pass on the request,” her friend said as he grabbed the handle of his case. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you again.”

His aunt had been present at the courts of the Skywalker king as well as both Obi-Wan and Hamaal. To coax her from her lands was difficult do to her advanced age, though she admittedly had a soft spot for the young monarch. Rey hoped dearly that Maz would take the journey south to the capital to visit. 

“As soon as I’ve finished, and you’ve given your seal of approval, we’ll have it sent to Alderaan,” Finn said as he walked with the young woman to the door of her receiving room. “I’m sure it’ll go over well.”

Rey mustered a smile, hoping he was right. 

“I don’t care if she’s entertaining the entire kriffing court in there! You’d best let me in or I’ll-”

A harried looking chambermaid knocked once upon the door to Rey’s receiving chamber, her face the same ashen color as her smock. 

“A visitor to see Your Highness,” she uttered, dropping into a quick curtsey. 

“Duke Hux.”

She scurried out of the way to reveal the irate looking Duke standing in the doorway, visibly seething.

Rey straightened her back as she tried to put aside her own rage at his ill treatment of her serving staff. She glanced to Finn who was eyeing the nobleman with a pinched look, wishing to call attention to his behavior but not wanting to overstep the queen before the duke. 

“We need to speak, Your Highness,” he said through a clenched jaw. A muscle within her own jaw ticked at the strain of holding back a harsh comment. 

“If you would excuse us, Lord Kanata,” she said in dismissal to Finn, her eyes flickering over to the man beside her. He wisely bowed his head to her while skipping over any obeisance to Hux. The lack of proper respect only seemed to add to the rosy hue of the duke’s cheeks.

“What is so dire that you’ve come unannounced?” she asked, retreating to her embroidered chair before the fire. For a moment she considered calling in one of her ladies as chaperone, wondering if the presence of an outsider would remind Hux to keep his temper in check. 

“You’ve ignored my summons to council meetings; I believe it is the monarch who dictates invitations to court, is it not?”

Her skin prickled as she recalled the ignored messages sent to Arkanis in recent weeks. She hadn’t seen or heard from Hux since he’d left the capital after her verbal assault of his actions before the Council. It was undeniably discourteous of him to choose to call upon her now at his own leisure, and with a complaint against her as well.

“I heard word of a marriage alliance with Alderaan and the grandson of the usurper,” Hux bit, ignoring her question altogether. 

“If you are asking as to its validity, you will be upset to hear that it is true,” she answered, watching a myriad of emotions flit across the man’s face.

Furor was chief among them, though she thought she saw a dash of despondency before he schooled his features.

“I would like to extend my council to Your Highness-”

“Ah, now you think to offer your council,” Rey interjected, knowing it unwise to bait him further but unable to help herself. One shouldn’t be vengeful or vindictive but it was difficult not to be when concerning her kinsman. 

She hadn’t thought that his face could ever reach the reddish hue of his hair but, apparently, was mistaken.

“I think you are making a terrible, terrible mistake,” he ploughed on, coming to stand before her. She refused to stand as well, though she didn’t appreciate him crowding her. Staying seated would remind him that she had withheld an invitation for him to do the same; she was in charge.

“There are more suitable candidates than the spawn of Skywalker. If you would bequeath me the task in assembling a proper list of candidates I will find a much better match for you.”

Rey arched a brow before shaking her head.

“You know as well as I that you would be most prominent on the list,” she retorted. “I’ve made my decision and, God willing, I will take Lord Ren as my husband.”

The silence that fell between them put her on edge more than his angry tirade of moments before.

“God willing,” he repeated, breaking the lull in a harsh whisper, “God willing you don’t let that filth infiltrate the royal line!”

Her cool demeanor faltered at his improper conduct. She’d never been treated as such before due to her birth and rank. She steeled herself regardless, knowing that if she showed weakness Hux would grasp onto it.

“I am the most eligible in this kingdom. I am your kinsman, descended from our common ancestor. I should be the first choice!”

Rey’s earlier decision to remain seated was wholly ignored as she stood suddenly, moving so quickly that Hux took a step back.

“You went against my direct orders and slaughtered my own countrymen,” she thundered, surprising even herself with her tone.

“Your behavior is reprehensible, as is your disrespect of me. I cannot consider you a candidate despite the lineage you claim.”

“The filth in which you speak also shares our common ancestor. Yet, unlike you, he comes from royal blood. Skywalker was an usurper, but he was anointed and crowned; his descendents come from royal stock. You can boast only a lesser claim, despite your ‘high’ standing.”

The color fled his visage, the bloodless face a stark contrast from the redness of moments before.

“Remember who you are speaking with, my lord,” she snapped, hands thankfully hidden in the folds of her gown lest he see that they’d curled into fists.

“I may be uncrowned, but I am your queen.”

She gestured toward the door, her gaze cold and unforgiving.

“I suggest you return to Arkanis and remain there until after the meeting between myself and the Solos is finished.”

She stared him down until the duke bowed stiffly and took his leave, the flash of rage in his eyes undeniable.

When he left her presence she nearly collapsed into her vacated chair, trembling at the display of force she’d enacted.

Her ladies descended upon her seconds later, fawning after her in concern. She closed her eyes, trying to block out their good natured inquiries as she attempted to digest what had just happened.

It seemed more imperative than ever that the match between Lord Ren and herself go through.

\----

The trek through the western portion of her kingdom and into Ganthel took nearly two weeks to complete. The going was slow, much to her consternation, due to the various baggage trains and the sheer number of those attending the meeting. High ranking nobles from across the kingdom attended her on what may be the first meeting between herself and the future King of Ileenium. 

Hux was absent from their numbers though she didn’t comment on it, letting the rumors fester as to why the nobleman was absent. She cared little for his reputation.

The choice in where to meet was a relatively easy one. Neither party thought meeting in their respective countries would be advantageous, especially as neither had met before. A neutral location was desired, leading to the choice of Ganthel. The small kingdom, located between Ileenium and Alderaan, was receptive to the meeting of monarchs. King Illyrio of Ganthel had been more than happy to provide for the summit, most likely banking on the hope of future monetary compensation if a union was to come from the meeting.

The Ileenium party arrived at the estate of Baron Sloane and his lady mere hours before that of Alderaan. The estate was packed to the gills with nobles from both parties, eager to witness the meeting between the princess and Skywalker descendant. 

The morning after her arrival was designated the first among many meetings between both royal houses. Rey was admittedly nervous as her ladies primped over her hair, bound tight under a snood of gold lace. Her gown was crafted from blue silk, far lighter in color than the dark blue of mourning she’d been donning since the death of her father. The blue color was deliberate; blue spoke of purity, as if there needed to be a reminder to her prospective groom that she was an untouched woman.

A diamond collar from the royal jewels, once commissioned by Queen Miriam, graced her neck. She didn’t wish to be so ostentatious in her dress yet she couldn’t appear a pauper before the other two royals. Her father had ensured that the coffers of Ileenium were full during his reign as king, engaging in lucrative trade among the various neighboring kingdoms. Marrying into the Kenobi line wouldn’t put her prospective groom into a financial crisis.

Flanked by her mother and uncle, Rey was conducted to the Great Hall shortly after dressing. 

Baron Sloane himself announced the queen and her party into the hall where the Alderaanian party was already seated. 

Her gaze slid over those assembled, recognizing among them the wizened Admiral Ackbar.

It was clear before the introductions were exchanged who the princess was based on her age and regal air. The man beside her seized her attention the moment she looked upon him, effectively distracting her from the speech of Baron Sloane.

Lord Ren was taller than she expected, towering over his much shorter mother. Rey was unusually tall for a female yet Lord Ren seemed to be considerably taller still. Dark hair fell softly to his shoulders, framing a clean shaven face. 

The lack of facial hair struck her as peculiar, as beards were currently in fashion in Ileenium. She wondered if the addition of a beard would make him appear older, for he didn’t seem to be the twenty-nine years of age that she’d been told.

So caught up in her appraisal of him, she barely made the proper curtsy to the princess. She straightened in time for Leia’s son to step from beyond the table to meet her properly. He bowed at the waist and took her hand, pressing his lips to the back of her knuckles. 

“It is pleasing to meet you, Your Highness,” he said, his soft tone catching her off guard.

Rey made a small obeisance , not dipping as low as she had for the princess due to the difference in rank. 

“And you, my lord,” she replied, wondering if he would take offence to the lackluster title. 

His stoic features didn’t bend as he released her hand. Without another word he retreated to his mother’s side, seeming rather bored by the proceedings. It was difficult to get a proper reading on him, but she was determined to do so before the end of the series of meetings.

She wanted to know exactly who she was inviting into her kingdom and bed by the end of the trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief meeting, but our first meeting. More to follow.
> 
> Follow me at beyond-this-illusion.tumblr.com for more fic info as well as miscellaneous posts.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of possibly moving the update day to a different one than Sunday. Maybe even going with an unset date? I don't know, but I figured I'd throw it out there! 
> 
> Thank you again for all of your kudos and wonderful words.
> 
> I was unsure of how many chapters I wanted for this fic but at the rate we're crawling along I'm thinking at least 20? Maybe more?
> 
> We'll see!
> 
> Follow me at beyond-this-illusion.tumblr.com

“He asks for too much!”

 

Rey withheld an eye roll with great difficulty at her mother’s ranting, glad for her position before the window looking over the gardens to hide her expression.  Her mother had been fuming since the latest meeting between the two royal parties concluded that morning.

 

The ‘click’ of the woman’s heeled shoes against the stone floor of the chamber reverberated in Rey’s head as she struggled to digest all that had occurred the past two days.  

 

The initial meeting the morning after their arrival continued well into the afternoon as matters of interest of both parties was discussed.  Numerous details required attention and discussion as a semblance of a marriage alliance began to form.  It was far more intricate than she imagined; foolishly she’d thought it would be a quick, impersonal affair.  She hadn’t banked on meeting her prospective groom until their wedding day, as most highborn girls in her position did.

 

The Princess of Alderaan had stipulated that both houses meet in person, for a reason undisclosed.  

 

Rey was somewhat glad for the meeting, able now to see what her possible intended looked like.  Though she’d sent a portrait of herself, she hadn’t received one of him.  Princess Leia seemed to be pleased by the portrait, from what she told the young Kenobi over the evening meal the previous night.  

 

She supposed it didn’t matter what Lord Ren thought of it, as her looks were impartial to the sealing of the alliance.  A vain part of her that she tried to suppress hoped that he was at least somewhat moved by her; what woman wouldn’t want her intended husband to think her desireable?  

 

Barely more than a handful of words had been exchanged between herself and the Knight of Ren since their initial meeting.  From what she could discern he seemed to be a man of few words.  She didn’t take his silence for disinterest exactly, but rather calculation.  He appeared to be studying intently the talks and exchanges of the various meetings in order to stow away whatever information he could.

 

“Rey, my child, we can always cease the talks and return to Ileenium tomorrow.  You don’t have to choose that….that...ill-born-”

 

Rey sighed as she turned back to her mother, watching as the woman sputtered in an attempt to locate a word detestable enough to describe Lord Ren.

 

“We’ve discussed this more than once, Mother,” she reminded the dowager.

 

“Lord Ren is the best option based on his lineage.  If we do not entwine him into the royal house there is a chance that his progeny will lay claim to Ileenium through his mother’s modest claim.  I can’t risk that.”

 

The elder woman seemed to deflate at her daughter’s reasoning, though it did little to change her thinking toward her possible son-in-law.

 

Rey understood her mother’s outrage over the demands of the Alderaanian party, as she too had been somewhat surprised by them.

 

It was made quite clear by the Alderaanians that, with Lord Ren’s status as King Anakin’s heir, he should rule jointly with Rey rather than take on the lesser title of ‘consort’.  The request rankled the Ileenium delegation considerably, which Rey hadn’t counted on.

 

The entire purpose of choosing Lord Ren was because she thought that his connection to Ileenium would soften the blow of the queen marrying a foreigner.  That foreigner ruling jointly with her would undoubtedly cause grief to some in the kingdom.

 

Rey feared that Lord Ren wouldn’t wish to take the diminutive title of consort simply on principle.  Female rulers were few and far between; wives of monarchs took the title of consort, not husbands.

 

The demands hadn’t ceased there, to her disappointment. 

 

Lord Ren had requested domain over Tatoo based on his ties to King Skywalker.  The demand hadn’t been shocking as the first, as she’d expected he would wish to lay claim to Tatoo.  Rey hoped that the return of the area to a Skywalker would quell the unrest there, if she was being honest.

 

Permission for the Knights of Ren to be a presence in the kingdom was their third, and final, request. 

 

Had Master Streen been present she was sure the older knight would’ve been infuriated by the request. 

 

Earl Dameron tried to explain that the Jedi Knights were the premier warriors of their kingdom, yet Lord Ren insisted upon allowing a chapter to be initiated.  

 

She, in turn, had demands of her own.

 

Trade, previously limited with Alderaan, would be increased.  Access to the lucrative spice trail leading into Tatooine from Alderaan was also requested.

 

She thought her requests paltry in comparison to his.

 

A knock at the chamber door was seen to by one of the ladies-in-waiting, admitting a liveried servant of Alderaan.

 

He bowed before the royal duo before rising.

 

“Lord Ren wishes for the company of Her Highness in the garden,” he uttered his message before bowing once more in adieu.  

 

Rey worried her bottom lip between her teeth for a moment before nodding.

 

“I’ll bring Jessika,” she placated her mother who was just about to suggest herself attending as chaperone.  

 

She didn’t need her mother breathing down her neck during her first real chance at uncovering the man beneath the title of Knight of Ren.

 

\------

 

He could feel the cool touch of gold upon his brow, so close was he to gaining the throne of Ileenium.  

 

After discussing the merits of acquiescing to the marriage request with Snoke, it became incredibly clear to Kylo that he must accept.  There was no hope of him attaining Alderaan thanks to his mother’s decision to take Lord Solo as her husband without the approval of King Organa or his council.  His father’s meager estate in Corellia was forfeited upon his death to atone for his outstanding loans, so extensive that even Kylo’s mother hadn’t known the extent to which Han owed others.

 

Ileenium was his best chance at carving a place for himself as well as salvaging the Skywalker name.  By all rights it should have fallen to his uncle but the man was far too entrenched in the Church to think of such worldly matters.  

 

He knew very little about his prospective intended before arriving at the seat of House Organa a few weeks earlier.  He hadn’t been at the palace in the presence of his mother or adoptive grandfather since leaving years previously to study under Lord Snoke.  His grandfather seemed to be clinging to life, frail and looking aged even beyond his advanced years.  His mother had aged significantly as well, most likely due to the death of her husband.  

 

Han Solo was buried in the chancel of the chapel within the palace where he’d been rotting for the past three years.  Kylo hadn’t bothered with the journey back to Alderaan to attend the funeral.

 

Why?  To pay respects to the man who’d nearly bankrupted Leia and was, in part, the reason that Kylo could not inherit Alderaan’s throne?  If the damned man hadn't’ been such a degenerate it would be Leia that would follow Bail, with Kylo after her.

 

_ Ben _ .  He’d still be  _ Ben _ .

 

The man formerly referred to as ‘Ben Solo’ stepped out into the elaborate garden of the manor house to await the arrival of the queen.  He hadn’t wooed a woman in years; he’d been an eyecatcher in his youth at the Organa court, before he’d realized the extent of his parents’ mistakes and gone off to Snoke. 

 

Women were not in attendance of the Knights of Ren, though that didn’t mean they were meant to be celibate as the Jedi Knights of Ileenium were.  Kylo indulged from time to time in some of the nearby brothels, though he took certain precautions during the encounters.

 

Having changed his name, there was no risk of a prostitute angling for money or favors from the son of the Princess of Alderaan.  He didn’t mean to pawn off a child on one of the women either, making sure never to finish within any of them.  His bloodline was pure, aside from the Corellian, making it a near sin to sully his family line with a bastard child of a whore.

 

Only a royal, surely ,would be appropriate to help extend his family line.

 

In truth he wasn’t particularly excited about the prospect of marriage.  It would be somewhat of a nuisance to have the share the throne that should be rightfully his with another, let alone the granddaughter of the man who’d opposed his grandfather.  

 

Snoke, in his wisdom, assured him that he need not worry.  He could easily keep his new wife busy and out of the business of handling the kingdom, Snoke advised, by ensuring that she was preoccupied with their heirs.  

 

It was tradition in many kingdoms across the continent that a pregnant woman, especially a woman of gentle birth, be secluded for the last few months of her pregnancy as well as the weeks following the birth.  Confinement could last from three to four months in total, which would leave Kylo as the only ruling body present at court.  

 

If that meant keeping his new wife pregnant, he would gladly oblige.

 

Despite his lack of enthusiasm he’d been curious as to what his possible bride looked like.  His mother showed him the portrait that the queen sent a few days before his arrival to Alderaan, finding that he approved of how she was pictured.  Portraits were subjective; she could sport a handful of warts and a scars from smallpox which were omitted from the painting.  He’d taken her clear visage with a grain of salt.

 

He was pleasantly surprised when she appeared to be even more beautiful than the painting portrayed her; completing his marital duty wouldn’t be an issue with a bride looking as Rey did.

 

His eyes tracked the sound of heeled shoes clattering against the cobbled ground as the princess neared him.  Turning around a hedge, he was treated to the view of her with her lady walking a few paces behind.

 

He sketched a bow, calling upon the courtly etiquette of his childhood in Alderaan.  His bow was met by her shallow curtsey  before he extended his arm to escort her.

 

“The weather is quite pleasing, isn’t it?” he inquired, settling into the politeness of courtly speech.  

 

She nodded once, eyeing him from the corner of her gaze.  It amused him to think that she was trying to get a proper reading of him.

 

“It is far too beautiful to be kept locked in meetings all day.”

 

The queen raised a brow, catching his thinly veiled reference to her beauty rather than the moderate weather.

 

“I do not mind the discussions, my lord,” she commented, seemingly unphased by the compliment.  “I find them invigorating.”

 

“Invigorating?”

  
  


He couldn’t help the dry chuckle that followed his words, causing a frown to crease her lips.  

 

“Tiresome, yes, but invigorating,” she extrapolated. 

 

“I am allowed little insight into the running of my kingdom just yet, despite my attendance on my governing council.  I enjoy discussion of the handling of a kingdom.”

  
  


He inwardly sighed, having hoped she would’ve been content to handle only the domestic aspects of court life instead of sticking her nose into the account books and war room. 

 

“Surely there are more...appealing pursuits for a lady of your birth?” he asked, doing his best to gently inquire as to whether there was something else that could take up her time.

 

He felt the slightest tense of her arm tucked in his as they rounded the garden to complete their first lap.

 

“Nothing concerns me more than the state of my kingdom, my lord,” she replied with a tone much shorter than previous.

 

It rankled him that she’d chosen then, of all moments, to provide his inferior title; my lord, she’d used, as she spoke of her own kingdom which hinted at her superior position.

 

“As it should, Your Grace,” he said with a force smile and a slight nod of his head.  

 

His attempt to smooth his ‘gaffe’ was lost on her as she remained rather icy toward him for the rest of their promenade.

 

“Thank you for this….diversion, my lord, but I have a previous engagement awaiting me with Viscount Dameron,” she said after a second lap about the garden with her intended.

 

He didn’t appreciate being pushed aside for a meeting with her cousin, a former suitor no less.  His expression didn’t show his displeasure as he parted from her with a bow.

 

She was proving to be more complicated than he hoped.

  
He’d never shied away from a challenge before, and didn’t intend to start.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait! I was hired for a new job in between updates and the process was taking up a bit of my time. The wedding will take place in the next chapter though I'd originally set for it to be this one. I don't want to rush anything.
> 
> The wonderful Fecky over on tumblr was kind enough to beta this chapter. Check out her tumblr as well as her AO3 account!
> 
>  
> 
> Fecky: http://archiveofourown.org/users/firelord65  
>  http://feckyeslife.tumblr.com/

Coruscant was nearly bursting at the seams during the weeks leading up to the royal wedding.  Nobles from across the kingdom packed into the capital city in eagerness to witness the marriage of the queen to the Skywalker heir.  Republica practically gleamed in the early June sunlight after a thorough cleansing while the court had stayed in the royal palace of Galactica near Mandalore.  

 

Galactica wasn’t as modern or luxurious as Republica, but was by no means a simple country manor.  The castle, just on the outskirts of Coruscant, was considerably quieter than the hustle and bustle of Republica.  The residence was originally a gift of the Kryze family in the reign of Rey’s grandfather in honor of the marriage between both houses.  Her grandfather and father spent a considerable amount of money to upgrade the establishment to house the royal court.  It served as a nice respite from the noisiness of the capital.

 

The commons had turned out to welcome their queen back to the capital days before the wedding.  The throngs of people were more subdued than usual as she rode through lined streets, making her anxious over her choice in spouse.  

 

It was understandable that some would be wary about a Skywalker returning to Ileenium, as the elderly could recall the instability that accompanied Anakin’s overthrow of Obi-Wan.  

 

She hoped the good will her people had toward the Kenobis would help soothe any fears for the time being.  She knew that once she carried a son, minds would ease in knowing that the succession was secured. 

 

When the royal guests from Alderaan arrived days after her, they were greeted with organized speeches and spectacles on nearly every other corner in the city.  Rey entrusted her uncle with meeting the royal pair and their entourage at the gates of the city to conduct them to Republica.  From what she heard of the trip from Poe, who’d ridden at his father’s side, the city folk had been quite taken with the Princess of Alderaan.  

 

Her demure style of dress along with the distinctive braided-bun hair style of Alderaan intrigued those that flocked the streets of the capital.  That she was the daughter of the disposed king intrigued even those who recalled horror of the reign of Skywalker.  

 

The brooding figure at her side garnered the most interest from the commons, Poe had related to her.  The people were naturally curious about the man that was to be their king.  Any reservations they may have had were soothed by the copious amount of alms distributed in the names of the mother and son pair.  

 

Rey saw little of her royal guests during the two days leading up to the wedding, busy with overseeing preparations for both the wedding and following coronation.  She’d formally welcomed them both to Ileenium after they arrived at the palace, giving her court a firsthand look at the interaction between herself and their future king.  The dark haired man rose to the occasion presented, gallantly etching a bow as he presented a token of his esteemed ‘love’ for her.

 

It seemed that even though he hadn’t taken part in court proceedings of Alderaan in years, the mannerisms and etiquette of a prince had not deserted him.  

 

The token of his affections was in the form of a ruby broach which she’d fawned over as was expected.  It was somewhat tiresome to act one way and think another when it came to living with the court, though she knew it was a burden she was to bear as queen.

 

Avoiding him the following days was somewhat of a cop out that, by busying herself with work, she kept from seeking out her intended.  He made her feel awkward and nervous, traits that she didn’t enjoy in the slightest.  

 

If she was to rule equally with him, she couldn’t allow herself to appear anything other than certain and strong.

 

\--

 

The night before her wedding had her hosting the princess and a portion of her retinue in her chambers for supper.  The best of the Kenobi’s gold plate was used to serve the two royals, gleaming as bright as Lord Ren’s ruby pinned to Rey’s bosom.

 

She never had a partiality to rubies- she preferred sapphires by far- but had to admit that the square stone bordered in gold filigree was becoming.

 

“It suits you,” Leia complimented the younger woman once the meal adjourned and the small gathering of nobles spread around the room.  Both women took up spots by the empty fireplace to enjoy a glass of mulled wine.  Rey found that she was indulging more than usual in the expensive vintage in an effort to put off her nerves concerning the next day.  That she managed to get through the meal with her future mother-in-law intact surprised her.

 

Rey’s brow creased in confusion until she followed Leia’s eyeline to the brooch.  

 

“Oh,” she said lamely, face flushing at her lack of initial understanding. “Thank you.  Your son chose quite a beautiful piece.”

 

A tightening in Leia’s expression hinted at something troubling her, though the princess didn’t give words to her worries.

 

“He does have an eye for such things,” the princess commented as she set down her glass.

 

Rey refrained from fidgeting under the scrutinizing gaze of the princess, wondering if she thought her worthy of her son’s hand.  Or, if she was being bitter, of the throne that might’ve been Leia’s.

 

The brunette pondered whether her mother was faring better hosting Lord Ren and other nobles within her own chambers.  It was tradition in Ileenium for a bride and groom to spend an evening meal or festivity with their intended in-laws.  

 

Rey speculated her mother was still irked by her refusal of considering Poe; Cleera could’ve been supping with her nephew instead of the grandson of the usurper Skywalker.

 

Her dear cousin was across the room, sending a pair of Leia’s ladies into tittering laughter.  He didn’t seem to be overly upset about not wearing the crown.

 

“I’ve tried not to think of the life that could have been, but I fear I would be lying if I said I didn’t.”

 

The admission caused Rey to swivel her gaze back to the older woman who was still watching her intently.  

 

The queen sobered, realizing that Leia was referring to her once status as Princess of Ileenium.  She’d barely held the title, what with Obi-Wan being crowned again in Coruscant after he took back the throne.

 

“I’m not a vindictive individual.  At least, I try not to be.”

 

A wry smile worked its way onto the elder woman’s lips.

 

“Once I learned the truth of my parentage I could have called upon my kinsmen in Tatooine and Naboo to help my brother reclaim it.  Many believed I should have.”

 

The princess leaned forward slightly in her seat, breaking her exemplary posture.  Rey found herself echoing the movement.

 

“But I didn’t; I didn’t want to.  Why raise an army and irrevocably change the lives of thousands?  For what?  My father’s meager claim?”

 

Leia tutted as she leaned back in her chair, her inner thoughts lingering between the pair.

 

“I was content with Alderaan, even though that kingdom became expendable.”

 

Rey was tempted to ask about Lord Solo and how one man had changed the course of Leia’s inheritance, but held her tongue in an effort to keep from overstepping.

 

“I…...I am glad to hear of your decisions, Your Highness,” she commented politely, unsure of what to say in the face of Leia’s confession.

 

The princess chuckled at Rey’s fumbled courtesy.

 

“Speak plainly to me, child, as your mother-in-law, for I will do the same courtesy to you,”  Leia requested before taking a sip of wine.  She savored the taste of Corellian wine, though it appeared to Rey that she seemed somewhat pained.  Again, she didn’t think it her place to inquire as to why.

 

“Well, then I am glad to know that war was not brought to my kingdom because of your claim,” Rey restated, earning an approving nod from the princess.

 

“I am content in knowing that I am not to rule Ileenium nor Alderaan.  My son-”

 

Leia tapped her right hand against the arm of her chair, the back of her rings clacking against the wood in response. 

 

“My son feels differently.”

 

She let cradled her hands in her lap as she observed the young woman that was to marry her son on the morrow.

 

“B- Kylo,” she corrected herself, “feels that he was meant for more. I agree with him; he is a talented individual.  Any mother should be proud to have a son with his skills.”

 

It seemed that Leia wished to speak more on the matter but was deliberately choosing her words to remain vague.  Rey supposed it was a diplomatic move, as each woman was still getting to know the other.  Releasing such sensitive information about the Knight of Ren could be used against him, if Rey was a sly individual. 

 

She was hardly going to lord her husband’s lackluster inheritance over his head.

 

“It must be difficult, to be raised amongst the royal family and know that you aren’t going to have the crown,” Rey supplied, catching the relief that shone in Leia’s eyes at her understanding of what she’d been trying to delicately relate.

 

“Very difficult,” Leia agreed with a nod. “With the Knights he has a position of power.  It helped, I suppose.  But this…”

 

She waved a hand vaguely at the finely decorated room and expensively clad nobles.

 

“This is what he believes he is meant for.  What he believe his birth demands.  His mentor only fanned the flames of desire for power and position.”

 

Bitterness tinged the princess’ tone at the mention of the ‘mentor’.  Rey wasn’t left with her confusion for long as the princess continued.  “Supreme Leader Snoke of the Knights of Ren has supplanted me as my son’s confidant.  I would advise you, Rey, to be wary of him.  Appearances are deceiving, remember.”

 

An icy shiver was barely repressed at the princess’ warning.  Rey wished to ask more about the possible formidable rival but Leia was already rising from her seat.   
  


“The hour grows late, and I believe we all will need our sleep for tomorrow’s festivities,” Leia said, lifting her hand to Rey’s face.  She cupped the younger woman’s cheek warmly, a smile perking up her lips.

  
“I am very happy to have you join my family, my dear.  Very happy indeed.”

 

A warmth flooded Rey’s chest at Leia’s heartfelt words.  

 

Her relationship with her mother was strained in the wake of her father’s assassination.  She believed it was her mother’s genuine, deep love for Rey’s father that left her so unsettled in the wake of his death.  More often than not Rey felt as if she was in the position of maternal authority over her mother.  It was unsettling enough that she held a higher position than her to begin with.

 

“As am I, Your Highness,” she said, hoping that the woman took her words for the truth and not mere flattery.

 

The brightness in Leia’s gaze assured her that she did believe her.

 

\--

Once the guests filed out Rey was conducted to bed by her ladies.  

 

It was disconcerting to know that it would be the last time she would be sleeping in the apartments assigned to her since she was a child.  By the next evening her belongings and furnishings would be moved to her mother’s former rooms; it was only fitting that the queen take the proper chambers.  Her husband would be installed in her father’s vacant apartments further down the corridor.

 

At the royal palace in Stewjon the chambers for the king and queen were connected by an interior door.  She would much prefer such discretion, as she was fretful at the realization that whenever her husband came to her bed would be common knowledge.  All it would take would be to loiter in the corridor to see him trooping in or out.

 

Her life lacked privacy though she figured she never truly had any to begin with.  She was almost always with another, be it a servant or one of her ladies.  The only time she was alone was when she was in bed, sleeping.

  
It was no longer to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr: beyond-this-illusion.tumblr.com


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two updates within a few days? What?? 
> 
> Anyway, thank you all for your comments and kudos; they are always appreciated!
> 
> A few comments before this chapter:
> 
> 1\. You'll notice Kylo is referred to as of the House of Skywalker during the coronation ceremony. Ren isn't a family name in this verse. I don't believe he would take on Han's name nor would he use the adoptive surname of his mother. Skywalker is where his claim to Ileenium comes from, which is why he'll be using his mother's real surname as his own.
> 
> 2\. The coronation is a mashup of various types of royal coronations. Many traditions and information used in this fic comes from English medieval customs, though I've used some from other countries to make a unique blend.
> 
> Enjoy!

She would like to say that the morning of her wedding was bright and cheery, but it was still dark outside when she was woken by her ladies.  Many were already dressed, looking as if they were ready to step out onto the streets of the capitol for the procession to the cathedral within a moment’s notice.  

 

Rey normally had no issue with waking early, as she’d enjoyed waking with the sun as far back into her childhood as she could remember.  Today, her wedding day, made her want to burrow beneath her blankets to shield herself from the ensuing event.

 

The only bright spot within the day of torture was her coronation which would take place within the cathedral after Mass was heard.  Knowing that she would be queen fully after holding the presumptive title since her father’s death six months past was enough to keep her from fighting off the well-bred ladies that were coaxing her out of bed.

 

Her household as princess expanded tenfold after her father’s death, leaving her with a wealth of ladies-in-waiting and maids of honor.  The ladies-in-waiting, the married women among her flock of females, seemed much more at ease than the unmarried maids of honor who tittered nervously throughout the hours of preparation.

 

Rey was bathed, slathered in precious oils and scents, before being laced into her bridal gown.  The gown was by far the most expensive garment she’d ever worn, though it was nowhere near as intricate or costly as the garb she was to change into before her coronation.  The blue silk was high waisted with a v-neck that exposed the pure white underdress beneath it. The fabric, ordered specifically from Corulag, was patterned with intricate designs of leaves and flowers on vines.  The design was cunningly detailed in white, making it stand out favorably against the light blue of her gown. Pearls, craftily sewn by the seamstresses of the Royal Wardrobe, traced the waist of the gown.  

 

Ermine, costly fur reserved only for the highest of the nobility, lined the neckline and the cuffs of her sleeves.  As with the blue garment she’d worn to first meet her husband, the blue of her wedding dress was to once more proclaim her chastity.  Not that it would matter, as within the day’s end it would be compromised. The dress wasn’t practical in the slightest for the warm weather of June yet practicality wasn’t the aim of the gown. It was meant to parade the wealth of Ileenium and to enhance her majesty as she made her way through the city to the cathedral.  That she would be sweating and miserable was not of concern.

 

Her hair, brushed till it shone, was left free against her back. A silver diadem rested upon her brow to complete her overall look of majesty. 

 

The weight of the gown, the jewels, and the knowledge of the events to follow made her weary.

 

“You look like a goddess from the legends, Your Grace,” one of her ladies sighed, taking in the appearance of the queen.  The other women quickly echoed the young woman’s sentiments which prompted Rey to force a smile, afraid that they would continue babbling otherwise.  

 

Rey’s stomach twisted and turned as she was escorted out of her chambers and through the castle to the courtyard.  She was glad for the little she’d eaten that morning, knowing that there would be a good chance that a more decadent meal would’ve stained the courtyard floor. A footman helped her into the litter that was to transport her to the cathedral where she would be both wed and crowned. 

 

“Your father would be most proud of you, my child,” her mother said once Rey was seated within the litter. “I know this….match was not of my choice, but I can recognize the advantages of it.  I just-”

 

Cleera reached for her daughter’s hand as her words cut off, gaze watery with a mother’s pride.  There seemed to still be a touch of regret that her dream of a Dameron match failed, though the dowager queen wisely did not give speech to her disappointment.

 

Most royal young women didn’t have the luxury of their mothers witnessing their wedding, often marrying outside of their kingdom.  That Rey was able to stay within the kingdom she’d grown up in with her family caused her to count herself as lucky.  Having lost her father so suddenly, she was unsure of how she’d go on without her mother or cousin at hand. Rey squeezed her mother’s hand in response as she did not trust her voice to stay steady.

 

Her nerves were momentarily sidelined as they made their way onto the streets of the city packed with the commons hoping to catch a glimpse of their queen.  She delighted in waving to them, ears ringing with the sound of their calls for her good health and longevity.  Their approval of her decision, to take the Skywalker heir as her husband, soothed any remaining doubts she had over the arrangement.  Rey wondered exactly how much coin had been distributed in Lord Ren’s name to the people to help them come to this decision over his suitability.

 

The journey to the cathedral came to an end far sooner than she would have wished.  When the litter came to a halt she was conducted out onto the cobbled street by her uncle, waiting outside of the litter.  As her father was no longer living he was the closest male relation to her, and thus given the high honor of escorting her to her bridegroom.  

 

The courtyard around the cathedral was packed to the gills with well dressed nobles from both Ileenium and Alderaan, all clamoring to witness the marriage of the new king and queen.  As per tradition the marriage ceremony was to take place before the doors of the cathedral, with Mass following within.  The hot June sun shone brightly upon the assembled, leading Rey to hope that it was a good omen.  Surely, if her decision was a poor one, God would not hesitate to show his displeasure?

 

Sweat trickled down her back from the stifling heat and her erratic nerves as she was assisted onto a raised platform for the better view of the crowd. Her betrothed was already stationed by Archbishop San Tekka, dressed in clothing so dark that she would have thought him in mourning rather than preparing to take a bride. Her hand was passed from Earl Dameron’s to Lord Ren’s as the two knelt before the bishop.  

 

Rey wasn’t sure if it was the heat or her apprehension that caused time to distort; the ceremony, the placing of a ring upon her finger, and the sealing peck seemed to happen over the course of five minutes instead of the better part of an hour.  When the ceremony was over she and her new husband led the assembled nobles into the cathedral to hear Mass.

 

Rey cast what she hoped was an inconspicuous look at her husband as they strode into the cool interior of the cathedral.  She knew very little about him though she was aware  they had plenty of time to grow accustomed to one another.  Still, there was something offputting about him that she couldn’t put a finger on.  

 

Instead of taking a seat upon the padded pew closest to the altar reserved for the royal family, the married pair were directed to the side of the transept, off to the side of nave.  There a screen was erected to close off the space from the rest of the cathedral to afford the royals privacy in viewing the service.  

 

The skin of her hand tingled once her new husband let go of it when both were seated.  Rey let her newly freed hand join the other in her lap.

 

“I know you’ve been told countless times already, but you do look exquisite,” Ren complimented her, causing Rey to shift her eyes from her lap to meet his.

 

She gave him a shy smile, pleased that she managed to stir something within her husband.  Stranger or not, what wife wouldn’t wish to be desired?  The act that desire led to put her on edge, though there was nothing she could do about her dilemma currently.

 

“Thank you, my lord,” she responded, voice dropped to a hushed whisper to keep the rest of the guests from being able to overhear their conversation.  

 

“Kylo; my name is Kylo. Surely as my wife you are entitled to call me by my Christian name?”

 

His Christian name truly wasn’t ‘Kylo’, though Rey was hardly going to point the fact out moments after their wedding.  “Then you are entitled to use mine,” she said, supposing it to be only fair.  

 

The smile that upturned his lips did wonders for softening his features which caused her to be momentarily distracted.  

 

“Your Grace?”

 

Rey turned, the moment broken, to see which of her ladies was addressing her. 

 

“It is time for Your Grace to change your gown for the coronation,” Lady Pava continued, prompting Rey to stand.  

 

Rey cast her husband a small smile of farewell before following her ladies to a room off the side of the aisle to prepare.  Her elaborate wedding gown was exchanged for a costly garment of cloth of gold.  Pure gold thread was sewn into the fabric, giving the velvet a sheen that was reserved for only the highest of the nobility.  The cloth was originally from the coronation gown of her grandmother, Queen Satine, though it was repurposed into a new garment for Rey’s crowning. The fabric had been meticulously cared for which accounted for its ‘newness’ in appearance. 

 

Ropes of pearls adorned the bodice, adding considerable weight to the already heavy garment.  Rey couldn’t help but feel weighed down, even more so than with her wedding gown, as she was laced into the dress.  From the looks of awe of her ladies, most too young to have seen Queen Cleera’s coronation, Rey looked as bright as a star in the night sky.

 

**

Her husband was absent when she returned from dressing, leading her to assume that he was changing into his new clothing as well.  She wearily took up her vacated seat to enjoy a glass of chilled wine before the ceremony was to begin.  Within a few moments her husband returned, also clad in the expensive cloth of gold.  Something shone in his eyes as their gazes met once he took his seat beside her, though she wasn’t sure which emotion she momentarily caught.  Hunger?  Pride?   The brief emotion brought to mind her new mother-in-law’s words of the night before concerning what Kylo felt he was owed being Anakin Skywalker’s heir.

 

As Mass ended the two were conducted to velvet cushions set before the archbishop to begin the ceremony.  Rey accepted her husband’s hand as both lowered onto their knees.  

 

“Rey of House Kenobi, heir of Ileenium, Countess of Scipio, and Duchess of Stewjon; do you promise above all else to defend Ileenium and its people, uphold the faith of our Lord, and work to the benefit of your kingdom?”

 

Rey took a cool, calming breath before speaking.

 

“I solemnly promise to do all that you ask,” she spoke, voice clear and even despite the butterflies in her stomach.  The words that she’d practiced over and over in the privacy of her bedchamber seemed far easier to speak than she feared.

 

“Kylo of House Skywalker, Lord Ren of the Knights of Ren; do you promise above all else to defend Ileenium, uphold the faith of our Lord, and work to the benefit of your kingdom?” the archbishop repeated.

 

Kylo uttered the exact words that Rey spoke previously, thus allowing both to move onto the next stage of the ceremony.  Helping his wife from the cushion, Rey and Kylo stood to mount the pair of steps leading to the two gilt thrones.  

 

Rey’s heart hammered quickly within her chest as they approached the chairs and turned to face their noble guests.  The queen stood tall, staring out over the assembled viewers, as a cloak of velvet and ermine was placed over her shoulders.  She took a seat upon the gilt chair once her husband was clad in the same material.

 

The following ceremony passed with utmost pomp and attention to tradition.  Both royals were anointed with holy oil by two of the presiding bishops before being invested with the scepter and orb of their offices.  After the priceless instruments were taken from them the crowns of Ileenium were presented on bended knee by the two highest noblemen in the kingdom: Earl Dameron and Duke Hux.

 

Rey wondered to what degree her distant cousin was irked by presenting the crown to the new king, rather than sitting in the spot currently occupied by Kylo.  Whatever reservations he had were fortunately masked; Hux valued the importance of ceremony, at least.

 

Rey was the first to be crowned as the archbishop set the bejeweled piece upon her head.  From the corner of her eye she noticed a slight movement from her husband though she brushed the observation aside in favor of focusing on the matter at hand; that he’d stiffened at being crowned second was lost on her.  The two stood once the crown that once graced the head of her beloved father was set upon Kylo’s head.  

 

“I present your undoubted monarchs, Queen Rey Kenobi and King Kylo Skywalker,” Archbishop San Tekka boomed before the rows of pews roared in approval.

 

Rey beamed, unable to contain her joy at taking the crown that was rightfully hers.  Nothing could spoil her day, even the uncertainty concerning her new husband or her impending wedding night. 

 

Nothing.

 

**

 

The banquet that followed was sumptuous to a fault.  Course after course of the finest food the kingdom had to offer was paraded through the hall to be served to the noble guests. Boar, venison, peacock, capon, prawns, jellies; the dishes filing into the hall seemed to never end.

 

The finest cuts were presented to the dais for the royals and their most noble guests to choose from.  To be given a selection from the same gilt plate was a high honor, coveted by status seekers of the court.  Once a dish of quail was presented- Rey’s favorite- she ordered the dish to be sent to one of the tables down the hall where Lady Kanata sat.  

 

Rey had been pleased to hear from Finn that his elderly aunt would take the trip into the capitol for the event.  The festivities would last the better part of a week; there would be a chance to speak privately to the woman at some point.

 

Maz turned from a conversation with a lord beside her at the arrival of the serving boy carrying the plate of quail.  She turned her gaze to the dais, catching Rey’s smile of acknowledgement through her spectacles.  Maz bowed her head, accepting the honor, before addressing the serving boy.

 

After the last course was clear- an array of marzipan creations depicting the arms of Kenobi and Skywalker- guests were permitted to approach the royal pair and offer their congratulations and offerings.Though she was considerably exhausted after the day’s ceremonies, Rey forced herself to appear amiable through the discourse with each guest.

 

By the presentation of the eighth gold cup of the evening Rey felt her patience begin to thin.  Sleep would be preferable, though she knew much still needed to occur that evening before her head would touch her pillow.  Even in bed she would not be permitted to sleep, at least not right away.

 

A noblewoman that Rey did not recognize was presented to the pair next, sparking her curiosity.  She thought for a moment that the woman was part of the Alderaanian party though the heralding of her name sparked recognition within Rey.

 

“Lady Ahsoka Bonteri of Onderon,” the herald announced, causing more than a few heads to turn in the noblewoman’s direction.

 

The gray haired woman sunk into a curtsey before rising to view both monarchs.

 

Next to Rey, Queen Cleera stiffened at the sight of the woman who’d once captivated her husband.  Ashoka had been Lady Tano then, a sought after woman in her early thirties.  Now, in her sixties, there was still an air of the exuberant young girl who’d flourished under the attention of the Skywalker monarchs.

 

“Your Graces,” she greeted both Rey and Kylo, her voice clear and sweet.  “I thank you for the high honor of witnessing today’s blessings.”  

 

Rey’s lips upturned into an appreciative smile though she knew she wasn’t the one to have given the ‘honor’.  Her mother wouldn’t have included Lady Bonteri among the list of esteemed guests, leaving her to assume that her new husband orchestrated the invitation.

 

“The honor is ours,” Kylo corrected.  “To have a stalwart supporter of the Skywalkers among us on this day brings me great joy.”

 

Rey fought an eye roll, successfully managing to suppress the gesture at her husband’s lofty speech.

 

“If only your grandfather was with us this day; I know His Grace would be pleased beyond words to see you seated on his throne,” the noblewoman said with an accompanying, wistful sigh.

 

Heat crept up the back of Rey’s neck at the woman’s insinuation.  It took a considerable amount of restraint not to remind the woman that the deceased man she held on a pedestal had unlawfully stolen the throne from the rightful king.

 

Rey chose to marry the grandson of the usurper rather than be wed to Hux; she would have to come to terms with her decision, even if at times it was frustrating.

 

“A number of the king’s belongings were gifted to me after the death of your grandparents,” Ahsoka continued.  “As my wedding gift to you both, I would like to offer the scabbard and dagger of the late King Skywalker.”

 

A page dressed in the blue and orange livery of the Onderons stepped forward with the gift in hand, presented on open palms.  Rey watched with curiosity as Kylo rose to accept the offering, treating the sheathed dagger as if it was a holy relic.

 

The scabbard consisted of polished silver inlaid with precious stones.  The hilt was colored onyx, making it look rather menacing.  Kylo slid the dagger out slightly in order to view the blade within.

 

“I do not believe I can put into words my thanks for this gift,” her husband said which earned a pleased smile from the noblewoman.

 

“Knowing that I’ve returned this dagger to its rightful owner is all the thanks I require, Your Grace,” A

hsoka said as she sunk once more into a curtsey.  

 

The dagger was handed off to one of the pages seeing to the collection of gifts though Rey imagined her husband would’ve strapped it to his sword belt then and there if possible.

 

**

With the line of guests having dwindled the minstrels were instructed to begin playing music suitable for dancing.  Despite her exhaustion Rey engaged in a variety of dances, wanting to enjoy herself at least somewhat that evening.

 

She shared a basse with Finn, gliding through the slow steps along with the rest of the nobles participating.  Rey managed to summon up the energy for a handful of galliards, kicking and jumping with Poe as her partner for each.  

 

Her husband did not appear to enjoy the activity as much as she did which led her to believe there to be  little time for social recreation in Moraband.  Still, he accompanied her through a few dances with the courtiers at least for appearance’s sake.

 

When the hour grew late her mother caught her attention by leaning over the back of Rey’s chair to speak into her ear.  Cheeks flushed from dancing, Rey’s visage reddened further at her mother’s announcement: it was time to leave.

 

The queen set down her glass of wine before summoning her courage to stand.  Her ladies fell into step behind her; only the highest ranking were able to prepare her for her bridal bed.  

 

The glitter of her coronation wore off as reality sunk in.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr: beyond-this-illusion.tumblr.com


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took much longer than I intended. I was trying to go for a more awkward, hesitant approach to their first time together. I imagine a pair so newly acquainted as these two wouldn't just go for it. At least, not in this setting. 
> 
> Hopefully it'll go over well. But fear not! More typical smut will ensue in chapters to come.
> 
> Follow me at beyond-this-illusion.tumblr.com

The cheery chattering and laughter made it appear as if the group of ladies were about to take a stroll along the bank of the river rather than conduct Rey to her bridal bed. The corridors were already well lit by the time the small party reached the main stair, the servants having done so to allow any inebriated guests find their way to their rooms without trouble. Her feet felt much like the stone beneath her shoes as she mounted the stairs. 

Once in her bedchamber the ladies set to work preparing her for the last stage of the marriage ceremony: bedding. Her mother unlaced her from her gown as Lady Carise Sindian withdrew the linen shift she was to wear to bed. It would preserve her modesty for the bed blessing though it would serve little purpose afterward. Once disrobed she was helped into the shift and coxed onto a cushioned stool.

“Ridiculous is what it is,” a wizened voice muttered next to Rey’s ear, causing the queen to smile. A brush was dragged gently through her hair as Maz continued to speak. “What happens in bed is between husband and wife, not the entire court and clergy.”

Rey bit her lower lip to contain a chuckle finding, to her relief, that Lady Kanata was proving to put her at ease. She shared the woman’s view when it came to the bedding ceremony. Like most aspects of royal life, the initial bedding of newly married royals was of great interest to the court. Consummation was required to ultimately validate the marriage; if there was no intercourse the entire wedding ceremony and subsequent coronation would be worth nothing. That there was a chance of the next heir to the throne being conceived that evening only added to general concern.

Rey’s purity would be put into question, though she was undoubtedly a maiden still. In the age of her grandparents high ranking nobles and clergymen would be required to wait outside the door to the royal bedchamber to feast their eyes upon the soiled sheets in the aftermath of coitus. The specks of blood from the bride’s virginity would satisfy the groom and his affinity in knowing that the bride they’d chosen was untainted. Thankfully, her father broke from tradition and bedded her mother in privacy though the bridal sheets were still viewed by the council the morning after the wedding. Rey didn’t think herself as lucky as to weasel out of the viewing of the bed sheets though, hopefully, she wouldn’t have to be present when they were put on display before her councilors and the Alderaanian dignitaries. 

A cup of ale was pressed into her hands as she was led her bed. A gulp of it had Rey coughing, eyes watering at the strength of the brew. The married women chuckled in response while the single girls observed in confusion.

“Bridal ale, Your Highness,” Aunt Janeel explained as she smoothed the counterpane upon the bed. “To…..provide courage and energy.”

The women tittered once more as Rey’s cheeks burned. The heavily spiced ale was placed aside shortly after Rey was situated in bed. She held out her hands to the two ladies closest to her who coaxed the two rings from the queen’s fingers: the ring of her office as queen as well as her wedding band. She felt considerably more naked than ever, though she was technically still clothed.

As the minutes ticked by she settled in to wait for he husband. Having the eyes of the women in the room on her, knowing fully that they knew what was about to pass before her and her spouse, put her on edge. Rey wasn’t a fool; her life wasn’t in the least bit private because of her rank. Still, some discretion would be appreciated.

Within fifteen minutes her husband’s entourage entered her bedchamber, making the moderately sized room look far more cramped than it truly was. Rey resisted the urge to clutch the blankets tightly to her chest and instead sat up a bit straighter as the last stage of ceremony ensued. With Kylo placed in bed beside her she couldn’t ignore his relative size. He was a tall man; all long limbs and great height. For a moment she feared he wouldn’t fit, that he’d tear her apart in the activity to come. Caught up in her thoughts she barely listened to Bishop San Tekka as he blessed their bed, calling upon good fortune for their marriage and fertility. 

Cleera placed a departing kiss to her daughter’s cheek before taking her leave of the bridal pair, which signaled for the rest of the party to exit the room. Rey caught a glimpse of Leia’s braided mass of hair at the door, having stayed on the outskirts of the room. The princess gave the pair a soft smile and turned to follow the courtiers.

The silence that followed after the hubbub of the day was deafening.

A beat passed before her new husband climbed out of bed to gather up two glasses of ale. He kept silent as he poured the spiced drink into two golden cups; a gift from General Ackbar. “Thirsty?” he inquired, turning on his heel to hand her a cup without waiting for a response. 

Rey took the cup and threw back a swig of ale, finding it just as intense as her first gulp. The alcohol sent a jolt through her, one she wasn’t sure would help or hinder her situation. 

“Are you scared?”

The inquiry caught her by surprise, causing her to look up from the goblet of ale to find Kylo sitting beside her once more.

“Certainly not,” was her indignant reply, fueled by pride. Rey refused to be cowed, especially before him of all people; that she was frightened was besides the point. Her hasty answer caused a smile to split his lips.

“Your mother spoke to you, then? Of what to expect?” he asked before taking a hearty sip of ale. He grimaced at the taste yet swallowed the rest.

“She has.” Rey idly tapped her nails upon the exterior of her cup, wondering if what she’d been prepared for would measure up to the actual act. Setting aside what was left of her ale on the bedside table, the queen placed her hands upon her lap. 

“Good,” Kylo commented with a nod, as nonchalant as if he was remarking upon the weather.

A crimson bloom of embarrassment stained her cheeks though she did her best to fight it, fueled by the awkward tension between them.

“Alright.”

With that he withdrew something from his sleeve and placed it on the bedside table,, his body blocking the view from her. Without preamble he hiked the nightshirt over his head and let it drop to the floor. For the first time Rey was treated to the sight of her husband’s bare chest. She expected him to be chiseled, knowing that warriors built more muscle than the average courtier. The myriad of scars and marks upon his chest caught her off guard, causing her to nearly reach out and brush her fingers over a particularly ragged one on his side. 

“How did-” 

“I didn’t become the Master of the Knights of Ren by chance, Rey,” he answered her question, a bit of amusement in his eyes. The sound of her name in his voice, soft in the privacy of her bedchamber, was something she would have to get used to.

“These surely can’t all be combat wounds?” she asked, brows furrowing as her eyes lifted to his.

He took her hand without warning and placed it on a scar near his collarbone. “Jousting,” he explained as he traced the puckered mark with her pointer finger. “The lance slipped between my breastplate and helmet.” Kylo moved her slim finger in his large hand to the spot on his side. It was considerably difficult to pay attention to him while feeling the warmth of his flesh beneath the pad of her finger. “I was challenged a few months after gaining the second highest rank in the Knights by another warrior.” 

Rey withdrew her hand to her lap as she contemplated the overly personal tour of his body. “I presume you won?” she asked with a hint of amusement. 

 

“Of course I did; I separated his head from his shoulders to ensure it wouldn’t happen again,” he answered dispassionately.

A chill Rey couldn’t blame on the June night air ran down her back.

“Oh,” she commented somewhat lamely, fearing her etiquette lessons hadn’t prepared her sufficiently for a proper remark as to her husband’s executionary skills.  
Silence reigned once more.

“Well, I’m sure you’re exhausted-”

For a moment Rey wondered if he was merely going to roll over and fall asleep by pointing out her own fatigue to excuse his desire for rest. She knew it wasn’t typical marriage protocol to leave a union unconsummated though she couldn’t ignore the weariness she felt. The day had been incredibly tiresome; she hadn’t a moment of reprieve during the festivities. 

“-so I suppose we should get this over with.”

Any hope of a night of rest vanished at his statement. She squared her shoulders and gave a curt nod; she’d do her duty without complaint. 

Kylo reached a hand beneath the vast coverlet, keeping his movements slow as if afraid of startling a skittish animal, and gradually nudged upward the hem of her nightdress. Rey kept her eyes focused on his in determination not to shy away. If he meant to cow her earlier by making known his worldliness in comparison to her upbringing, she wasn’t going to let him. 

Calloused fingers on her thighs heralded the advancement of the hem of her gown. It was crumpled near her hips when he paused. He moved back slightly to allow for her to sit up in order to ease the garment over her head. She closed her eyes briefly as the cloth obscured her visage from his prying eyes, taking the brief second of privacy to gather her courage. By the time the nightdress was pulled over her head her features were once more schooled into impassivity.

A tic in his lower jaw was the only indication that he found her behavior unsatisfying, though Rey didn’t pick up on the gesture.

“You’d make a formidable knight, my lady,” he uttered, allowing the clothing to join his on the floor. He feasted his eyes on her bare torso before raising his gaze to hers. “What with your undying adherence to your most honorable task.” His words were meant to be teasing as to her dedication to getting through the night’s event, though she did little than crack the flimsiest of smiles. Kylo dipped down his head to press his lips to hers.

Having never been kissed, Rey noted that the sensation was relatively odd. Women of her rank and title were sheltered from the art of intimacy. To disregard all that had been drilled into her head for so many years was somewhat problematic. The longer the soft flesh moved against her lips, the less peculiar it felt. 

A tentative touch on the inside of her thigh warned her of what was to come. It crept upward until his long fingers were at the place of her womanhood. She did her best not to stiffen yet it was impossible not to jerk when his finger prodded her. He made a tutting noise before prying his lips from hers in order to straighten up. Somewhat dazed, Rey watched as he reached for the mystery object she’d seen him deposit on the bedside table. He undid the latch to the tiny jar which was no bigger than the palm of her hand. “I’ll do my best not to hurt you,” he explained as he dipped two fingers into whatever was in the jar. A faint smell of almond accompanied the oil she could now see coating his digits. Carefully he inserted a coated finger into the soft folds between her legs, earning a disgruntled look from her. He didn’t comment on it and instead probed gently while she fought against the instinct to pull away. 

Once he was satisfied with whatever he’d set to doing he retracted his long finger and applied what was left of the jar’s contents to the limb between his legs. Rey didn’t count herself a coward, yet she refused to allow her eyes to dip lower than his shoulders despite the odd sound of the oil slicking against his member. 

“Take a deep breath,” her husband prompted as he lowered himself onto her, using his arms to keep the majority of his weight from her body. He was a large man; she’d be crushed if he fell upon her. Rey closed her eyes and did as he asked. She barely completed her inhale when he breached her. 

It was a sensation unlike any other, making the earlier discomfort of his finger seem trifling. Her fingers dug into the sheets beneath her in order to avoid pushing at his shoulders in an effort to dislodge him. He eased in a bit further, eliciting a sharp inhale through her teeth. Kylo’s large hands smoothed her sides while he spoke low and encouragingly to her. She normally would’ve been miffed by his treatment of her as if she was a frightened horse, though at the moment all she could think about was the uncomfortable stretching occurring within her.

A final nudge of his member and the pain increased before beginning to dissipate. Her eyes were screwed shut though, if she’d looked between them, she would’ve seen the evidence of her virginity. 

“Breathe again Rey. Breathe,” he urged quietly, his forehead pressed to hers. Rey slid her eyes open in order to peer up at him, seeing in detail every mole and freckle upon his face. She found herself taking the deep breaths he asked of without complaint.

After what seemed like ages he began to retreat, only to nudge forward anew. The light thrusting motion didn’t feel as uncomfortable as his initial entry though it wasn’t favorable. Keeping her gaze locked with his was the only way she could manage to get through the encounter. When his pace picked up he pressed his lips onto hers. Kissing him helped to take the edge off of intercourse though it didn’t erase the fact that he was between her legs. After a few more moments she felt him stiffen and release within her. Rey kept still, as if afraid that by moving she would somehow dislodge him and all their work would be for nothing.

He sighed contentedly and moved off of her, leaving her feeling oddly hollow. As soon as his body was no longer draped over her own she reached for the coverlet to preserve some sense of decency. 

“It’ll be easier next time,” Kylo confirmed, reaching a hand through his dark hair. “I promise you that.”

Rey nodded, uncharacteristically quiet as she shifted onto her side. With any luck their wedding night attempt would take root within her womb, allowing nine months of peace and an empty bed.

The queen closed her eyes and allowed her fatigue to push her into the oblivion of sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the comments and kudos! I'm so happy to hear others are enjoying this. 
> 
> Smut will be in the next chapter. :P For now, have some jousting.
> 
> Follow me on tumblr: beyond-this-illusion.tumblr.com

She woke to the feeling of a warm body pressed against her side and soreness between her legs. Rey’s lashes fluttered as sleep gave way to full consciousness. Slowly she opened her eyes to view her bedchamber, swathed in early morning light. Already the sun was beginning to warm the room with its summer warmth, making the thin blanket draped over her combined with Kylo’s body heat oppressive.

Rey turned slightly to look upon the sleeping man at her side. Sleeping with another wasn’t exactly new, as on cold nights one of her ladies would sleep alongside her for warmth. As a child her nursemaid had kept to her bed to ensure she didn’t wander off in the middle of the night. Slumbering beside a man- her husband- was an altogether different experience.

The slight movement of her turning on her side was enough to jar him from sleep. It took him a moment to focus on her, his silent gaze heavy. “Good morning,” he murmured, voice deep with sleep. She whispered her own greeting to him which perked up the corners of his lips.

“You’ll come to my chambers after Mass?” he inquired. “I have something to give you.”

It was customary for a husband to bequeath a gift to his wife the morning after their wedding. A type of ‘thank you’ for keeping her purity until his opportunity to defile it. She nodded as she pushed herself up onto her elbows. He pressed a brief kiss to the side of her face before rising as well. Throwing on his night robe, he departed the room to attend to his own morning routine in his chambers. 

It was all coolly impersonal though, in honesty, she didn’t expect anything different.

With the departure of her husband, her ladies entered her chamber to attend to her. One discreetly stripped the sheet from the bed and balled it up. It was sent out of the room: evidence. Rey tried not to think of it as she was helped to wash and dress for the day. With her ladies in tow she made her way to the chapel to hear Mass along with the court, sequestered away in an elevated box to hear it privately. Her husband joined her at her side though neither spoke during the service. 

The eyes of the court were on them, some ostentatiously so. Many would wonder if, at that very moment, the future king was taking root in her belly. After the end of the sermon she took her husband’s arm to join him for the morning meal in his chambers. The rooms were familiar yet foreign at the same time.

The rooms that once belonged to her father were transformed in the days leading up to the wedding for her new husband. It was off putting to see the arms of Kenobi- a sword held aloft on a field of blue- to be replaced by the Skywalker crest. It wasn’t the true Skywalker arms resting above the fireplace in her husband’s private rooms, but one specifically tailored for him; the dual suns of Skywalker were quartered with the flaming sword of the Knights of Ren. 

There had been much discussion and deliberation over what the united Kenobi-Skywalker arms would look like. After numerous messages relayed between Ileenium and Alderaan, it was decided that the dual suns of Skywalker would be marshalled with the sword of Kenobi; one half of the crest depicting one sigil, the second half the other. 

Her husband’s servants served him first though she supposed that was expected. Had they been eating in her chambers, no doubt her ladies would’ve seen to her initially. She expected a power play between herself and her new spouse over the upcoming months if his behavior in the gardens of Baron Sloane was any indicator. 

Awkward silence fell between them as each picked up at the food presented to them. Rey had little appetite, uncharacteristically nervous from the prying eyes that morning. Her husband seemed to be a man of few words; silent meals would be a common occurrence.

“I have something for you,” he said once she’d given up pretending to seem interested in her meal. He ushered a member of his household forward to present an enameled box roughly the size of Rey’s extended arm. Lord Mitaka opened the case for her to view the gift within: the box contained a finely tooled girdle of gold inlaid with rubies. She touched the metalwork gently with the fingertips of one hand, eyes scanning over the gleaming materials. It was beautiful but she wasn’t awed; she had many fine pieces. The gift was nothing personal, simply a ‘thank you’ for a transaction.

“Thank you, my lord,” she said, raising her eyes from the ostentatious gift to her spouse. “I shall wear it at the tourney this afternoon.” 

Kylo gave her a rare smile in response to her thanks. To her surprise it elicited a warmth in her chest. Rey couldn’t ignore his choice of gem, noticing that it matched the brooch he’d given her upon his arrival to Coruscant. She presumed the deep red of the rubies matched exactly the flaming sword upon his sigil. Rey did her best not to look over at the crest to compare.

\--

“I suppose I should be jealous? How am I to win the day if I don’t carry your favor?”

Rey rolled her eyes, though the smile brightening her face dispelled any annoyance the gesture might’ve insinuated. Poe was lounged on one of the velvet backed chairs in her dressing chamber as her women saw to her hair. She’d donned a gown of gold colored velvet, slashed at the sleeves to show the white shift underneath, after breakfast in preparation for the tourney that was to take place. The week following the wedding was packed with different types of amusements and festivities to celebrate. Although they were enjoyable, Rey would be glad for all to go back to usual by the end of the week.

She watched her cousin over her shoulder before tutting and turning back around for her women to continue their work. He’d been ‘complaining’ for the past five minutes that he would have to rely on skill alone rather than luck during the joust as she wouldn’t bestow her favor upon him. As she’d been unwed up until yesterday, any joust or contest of combat saw her choosing Poe as her champion. She’d tie a swatch of cloth the same color as her dress or a ribbon around his lance or elbow to signify that he had her favor. Now it would be her husband wearing it, rather than her cousin.

“I’m sure the ladies will be clamoring to give you their favors,” she teased. She felt rather than saw Jessika stiffen at the comment, no doubt reddening in the face as well. She’d been suspecting for some time that her friend had eyes for Lord Dameron though she hadn’t pried. As Jessika was a maid of honor to the queen, it was up to Rey to assure she achieved a good marriage. She shelved the idea away for when the mania of her own wedding faded.

“The king is riding?” he inquired, giving her a moment of confusion as she thought instantly of her father rather than Kylo. 

“He is,” she said in response. “A handful of his knights are as well. Have you interacted much with them?”

As predicted, Lord Streen chafed at the thought of another order of knights being permitted within Ileenium. There would undoubtedly be clashes between the ideologies of the Jedi and Ren though she was hoping they would be verbal only. The brooding handful of warriors that accompanied Kylo to Ileenium for the wedding were only presented to her once upon her husband’s arrival to the capital. 

“They keep to themselves, mostly,” Poe noted. “A bit more stoic than our Jedi, no?”

Rey stood to allow one of her ladies to clip the bridal gift bestowed upon her that morning about her waist. The jewelry weighed on her waist though she made no complaint, knowing she would be sitting for most of the tourney. She raised her hands to her head to check that the henin placed over her twisted mass of hair was in place. She had no love for the large, conical henins that were popular during her mother’s youth. Some still wore them though she found their height to be burdensome. The smaller, conical shape ended in a flat top. A veil of sheer silk streamed from it to cover the back of her head, ending at just above her waist.

Her cousin escorted her out to the tiltyard before taking his leave in order to don his armor. She climbed the short steps to the dais where her mother and mother-in-law were waiting. Both stood at her presence, giving deference to her raised rank, before sitting at her insistence. The gathered nobility expressed their pleasure in seeing her, causing her to lift her lips upward in a genuine smile. The Kenobis had a knack for being personable; the love for her grandfather from the commons helped greatly in the fight to take back his throne.

Rey took a seat upon the raised chair in the center of the dais, flanked by both women. Her uncle sat beside her mother, whispering something in her ear. Rey took the time spent by the pages that were helping their masters prepare for the first pass to speak to Leia. “Did your husband take part in sport?” she questioned, hoping that the inquiry was enough to start a conversation. 

Leia gave a half-hearted laugh before shaking her head. “Han wasn’t the athletic type,” she explained, turning her head to better view her daughter-in-law. Her hair was coiled in the distinctive twin buns of Alderaan, making it obvious to the spectators as to who she was. “Betting was more his ‘sport’.” Her tone spoke of muted frustration though her eyes seemed more melancholy in expression. 

Rey gave a small smile, feeling awkward in having brought up the subject. She was saved from trying to salvage the conversation at the announcement of the first round. Lord Wexley easily unseated Sir Bly on the first pass, earning approval from the crowd. 

The rounds continued under the burning summer sun. Rey was glad for the canopy covering the dais and the chilled wine she was served. Why the men were taking part in the joust she didn’t know; it was tradition to have one after a royal wedding, but didn’t most of them detest the sweltering heat? 

A few rounds later saw Poe cantering down the list with an unfamiliar scrap of silk around his lance. Rey squinted slightly for a better look before casually turning to check Jessika’s gown. The noblewoman standing behind her was wearing the exact shade of green that was currently tied around Poe’s lance. Jessika didn’t notice her mistress’ scrutinizing gaze as she was far too caught up in observing the first pass between Poe and a minor lord. She winced along with the crowd as Poe was nearly unseated. He regained his balance to right himself, earning a smattering of applause from the spectators.

Shortly after Poe’s victory, her husband was announced. He rode his mount to the dais in order to halt before her. Without lifting his dark helmet, he rested his lance against the railing of the royal box. Rey stood from her throne to take a ribbon from her wrist. She tied it about the lance, ensuring it was tight, before stepping back. 

The pageantry earned raucous applause from the courtiers, forcing Rey to smile as she retook her seat. It was all ridiculous, she knew, as she cared little if he won or not. Kylo easily took down his opponent, climbing through the ranks of the tourney until there were only a few riders left. By that point Rey was fighting off irritability from the heat and longing to return to her chambers for a few moments of quiet.

Her attention was piqued upon realizing that her cousin would face her new husband. For the first time during the joust she felt herself on the edge of her seat in anticipation. The men broke their lances against each other’s shields on the first pass though neither was unseated. The second ended with the same results. 

The third sent Poe flying into the dirt.

Rey stood hurriedly from her seat, going to the edge of the box in order to see better. A ragged gasp behind her illustrated Jessika’s surprise though she made no move to join the queen at the railing. Rey’s ringed fingers grasped the railing tightly, causing the bands to press painfully into her skin as she waited for Poe to get up. With the help of one of the squires he got to his feet and removed his silver helmet. To her relief he was unharmed, though even from the distance between them Rey could see that he appeared dazed.

She smacked her hands together, prodding the spectators to clap as he was led from the lists. With relief she returned to her seat to watch the rest of the proceedings.

Her husband easily defeated the last rider to become the winner of the first day’s tournament. Rey stood as he cantered a lap about the lists to the applause of the court. A bag of coins was pressed into her hand- the prize for the day’s winner- as she approached the edge of the dais. Kylo halted his horse before the dais, lifting his helmet off his head in order to view her better. His wavy hair was nearly glued to his scalp from sweat, leading her to wonder how he was still sitting upright from the heat. 

He waved away the coins which undoubtedly would become a topic of gossip for the court; the new king was a humble man. 

She made to return to her seat when his gauntlet covered hand caught up hers. He tugged her gently forward so that he could speak close to her ear.

“I’ll come to your chamber tonight,” he murmured, bringing back his head after to observe her. His eyes were bright, high off the victory of the day. He was undoubtedly the center of attention, the heart of the court. 

Rey pasted on a smile and allowed him to kiss her hand, which drew further pleasure from the gathered courtiers.

She watched with a cool gaze as her husband basked in the approval of her people.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These two are slowly getting to know each other in a more intimate sense. The smut isn't hot and heavy per say, but we're shifting toward them becoming more acquainted with each other. As always thank you for your comments, kudos, and bookmarks!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr: beyond-this-illusion.tumblr.com

It was with great relief that Rey’s gown was peeled off her in preparation for the night’s feast.  The velvet stuck to her chemise, which in turn was plastered to her skin from perspiration.  It was fortunate to wear a chemise under one’s gown to preserve outer clothing.  Even women among the poorest of her kingdom wore the linen underneath their dresses to ensure their clothing lasted longer.  If they did not, the body’s oils and liquids would ruin the garment.  Where the peasants could wash their homespun, the queen’s silks and velvets needed to be sponged and brushed.  If one of her laundresses was to dunk a royal gown into a bucket of soapy water, the gown would be forever ruined.

 

Rey raised her arms above her head as the sweaty linen was stripped from her body.  In its place was a fresh chemise, smelling of the sprigs of lavender that were tucked into the chest that housed her linens.  Lady Karina Lennocks sponged the queen’s neck with a cool cloth in an effort to soothe her.  The young woman was another edition to Rey’s household, seemingly growing by the month.  The fathers of unmarried noblewomen clamored for positions for their daughters in her household, knowing that Rey would be in charge of setting good matches for them.  A daughter of a lord could easily become a countess or duchess while serving the queen.

 

Her original ladies- five including Jessika- were bolstered by the latest editions.  Few were married, the majority being maidens waiting for her to arrange their marriages.  The women were good natured, though she was not nearly as close with any of them as she was Jessika. Jessika  entered her service nearly five years ago and became a fast friend.  As soon as she was married, Rey planned on elevating her friend to Chief Lady-in-Waiting which would place her in charge of the other women.  Where most sought money and positions, she knew Jessika had no such ambitions.

 

Rey eyed her friend as she was helped into a fresh gown of Kenobi blue silk.  The shade of blue was closer to a sky blue than sapphire.  It was the exact shade of the field of her family’s sigil, making it a common color worn by the royal family.  Her attention was drawn back to Jessika once the dark haired girl helped fasten a string of pearls and sapphires about her neck.

 

She longed to bring up the scrap of silk that had adorned her cousin’s lance though she didn’t wish to embarrass her companion infront of the other women.  Nor did she wish to stir any rivalries among them.  To snag Viscount Dameron as a husband would mean a life of wealth and privilege.  That her cousin was easy on the eyes was an added bonus.

 

“Run through the week’s schedule with me, ladies,” she requested as the henin she’d worn that day was taken down in favor of leaving her hair loose over her shoulders.  As it had been wound in a tight bun, her hair lay in waves once unbound.  

 

“Tomorrow is the hunt, Your Grace,” Mistress Motea reminded her as she fetched a fresh pair of shoes for the queen.  “Then the archery competition, the tournament between the Jedi and Knights of Ren the following, and boat races the next,” Jessika added.

 

“Then the final banquet, and all will go back to normal,” Rey finished, earning a giggle from her assorted ladies.  Life would be far from normal, though it would be somewhat quieter once the Alderaanian party left.

 

\--

Another night of feasting and dancing passed.  Rey joined in the dances, choosing to enjoy herself rather than fret on the dais as she had the previous night.  By the end of the festivities she was red faced from exertion and smiling brightly with glee.  She bid goodnight to her mother and mother-in-law before approaching her husband.  She pressed a cool kiss to his cheek, giving the court the chance to view a formal ‘goodnight’, though she recalled his promise from earlier to attend to her in bed.  It would hardly be a secret, as some would undoubtedly see the king leaving his chambers to go to his wife’s.  If anything it was expected.

 

Until she was pregnant they were expected to couple at least every night.  Her only reprieves would be during her bleeding though, if she was with child, she would be spared from the womanly travail.

 

In her bedchamber she dismissed all her women except for Jessika.  The maid of honor helped her mistress undress and climb into bed.  Her shift from that evening was still fresh, and thus was worn to bed.  Rey didn’t think it would matter how clean it was as it wasn’t going to remain on her long.

 

“You gave Poe your favor today, didn’t you?” she asked, feeling it wasn’t worth it to beat around the bush now that they were alone.  

 

Jessika blushed scarlet and gave a silent nod.  “I caught him before he went to his pavilion to don his armor,” she mumbled, eyes downcast.  “He seemed pleased to accept it.”  She bit her lip before glancing up to meet her friend’s gaze.

 

Rey grinned brightly as she leaned back against the pillows.  “You may retire for the night, Jessika.  We’ll speak more of this?”  

 

The lady nodded before sinking into a curtsey.  Rey wasn’t left alone for long as within the next ten minutes her husband arrived.  He seemed livelier than the night before, perhaps still riding high after the day’s victory.  His hands were full with a pitcher of wine and accompanying goblets.  

 

He poured her a serving of wine and handed the goblet to her, reminding her all too well of the night before.  This time she drank sweet wine, cold from the cellars, instead of strong bridal ale.  

 

“Today was….invigorating, wasn’t it?” he asked as he tarried at the opposite side of the bed.  He took a swig of wine before setting the pitcher down on the low table near the bed.  “I haven’t jousted in ages.”

 

Rey raised a brow.  “Really?  You trounced some of the best riders in my kingdom,” she reminded him.

 

He made a noise of protest and climbed into bed.  “Our kingdom,” he corrected.  

 

Rey hid her displeasure at his amendment.  He was still a better choice than Hux, as far as she was concerned.  Still, it was difficult to reconcile sharing her birthright with another, even if he had been her choice.

 

“Are you still planning on accompanying the party to the hunt?” he inquired as he shucked off his dressing gown.

 

Rey gaped for a moment, not prepared for the nonchalant disrobing.  “I...Of course I am,” she stammered.  “I’ve always joined the court on hunts.”

 

Her husband didn’t bother trying to mask his look of amusement.  “Really?” he questioned, as if indulging a small child’s tale of nonsense.  Rey felt her blood boil, face reddening in response. “You’ll be able to keep up?  I don’t believe a lady’s mount would be best suited to keep pace with the hunt.”

 

“I can manage every steed in the stable, sir.   I’ve never come across a mount that I did not enjoy or know how to handle.”

 

He stared at her in silence for a moment, confounding her, until bursting into laughter.

 

The noise, though pleasant, was jarring as she hadn’t expected it.  Her frustration grew to the point where the order for him to retire to his own chamber was on the tip of her tongue.

 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe that to be true,” he chuckled, visage tinted pink from the strength of his laughter.  “I think there has been at least one ride you did not enjoy.”

 

Innocent perplexion narrowed her eyes until realization set in.  She looked down at her lap, thoroughly embarrassed.

 

“I-”

 

“Forgive me,” he interjected.  “That was uncouth.  I have been in the company of my men so long that my etiquette has lapsed.”  He turned on his side as she set aside her goblet.

 

“I’ll be honest with you, Rey; I’ve never lain with a virgin.  I’ve only ever had whores.  I did my best to make the act easy on you last night though I don’t believe I went about it the right way.  Coupling isn’t meant to be a chore, is it?”

 

Having no experience in coupling save for the completely impersonal interaction the night before, Rey dumbly nodded.

 

“I told you it’ll get better, and I mean to show you.  May I?”

 

Rey deliberated telling him ‘no’ just to see his reaction, though she knew the baiting would be too juvenile.  Instead she shucked her shift to the floor, revealing her bare torso.  She kept her eyes on his though it was taking a herculean effort not to squirm and look away.  Her body had only ever been bare to her ladies when they dressed or helped wash her.  This was an altogether different scenario.

 

Carefully, gently, his oversized hands alighted on the outside of her upper ribcage.  She felt that he could easily span her torso with his hands, making her feel small underneath them.  His thumbs shifted until they were able to brush against her nipples.  The sensitive flesh pebbled with his continued ministrations.  

 

Dark eyes looked up from similarly colored lashes as Kylo assessed his wife’s reaction.  She kept still, surprised that his touch actually felt  _ nice. _ He pressed further by tilting his head in order to kiss her.  Rey responded tentatively, still trying to get the hang of the motion, until settling into it.  Her arms moved around his bare back which seemed to encourage him to raise one hand from her breasts to her hair.  Long fingers dragged through locks of chestnut hair, ghosting over her scalp in the process.  She felt a shiver dance down her back at the combined stimuli.

 

The remaining hand on her breast drifted downward, over her navel, to rest right above the patch of hair that masked the apex of her thighs.  Kylo’s thumb skimmed against her sensitive outer lips, earning a gasp that was muffled through their kiss.  An unfamiliar dampness between her legs left his digit wet after a brief delving inside of her.  

 

His lips left hers without warning, leaving her feeling oddly frustrated.  She moved to prop herself up on her elbows when his hand softly nudged her back.  Without speaking he adjusted her legs to have them bent at her knees, feet flat against the bed beneath them.  Kylo nudged his wife’s legs apart and, to her great astonishment, dipped his face between her legs.  

 

She hastily sat up, unsure of what to think of his ministrations.  Though sheltered, she wasn’t deaf; she’d overheard plenty of her chambermaids talking about their indiscretions with the male staff.  She’d been confused as to why this particular form of intimacy was desired, as she didn’t think it would be altogether pleasant to have someone’s mouth on one’s genitals; she stood corrected.

 

Slowly she relaxed as her body unwound the longer her husband’s tongue probed and smoothed.  Her breath came along a bit harsher than before as his continued effort stirred a foreign sensation in her lower stomach.  It was a mounting feeling, reaching toward something she didn’t know of.

 

Suddenly the sensation abated as his head came up, eyes clouded with an emotion she couldn’t analyze correctly.Realization sunk in as he shifted up from her thighs to hover above her, member already at attention.

 

Desire.  He  _ desired  _ her.

 

Having never before been desired in her life, it was challenging to wrap her head around the idea.

 

She was saved from deliberating too deeply as he pushed into her.  His entry was infinitely easier than last night’s, though there was an accompanying sense of soreness at his intrusion.  The tender sensation didn’t last long as his length, thrusting inward and then outward, began stoking the flames of the fire that had been ignited in her belly earlier.

 

That he didn’t move his gaze from hers somehow made the encounter all the more intimate.  Rey could see each and every minute change in his expression due to whatever pleasurable sensations he was encountering.  In turn, he could take note of the same on her face; the dilation of her pupils, the redness of her cheeks, parted lips.

 

The building sensation between her legs was becoming too much to withstand.  A needy whine slipped past her lips, startling the two of them as she’d been silent up until now.

 

Her dilemma must’ve been evident in her eyes as he reached a hand up to the side of her head to smooth her hair.

 

“Don’t be afraid; I feel it too,” Kylo admitted quietly, voice strained from his own impending orgasm.

 

The climbing pressure exploded, leaving her body trembling in its wake.

 

Later, pressed up against Kylo’s side as he slumbered, she kept herself awake with bewilderment over how she’d enjoyed the act with the near stranger that was her husband.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how long this fic is actually going to be. I was aiming for 20-25 chapters but it's taken me four chapters to get through wedding festivities, so I don't know.
> 
> Thanks for reading, commenting, and kudoing!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr: beyond-this-illusion.tumblr.com

“My father was an excellent marksman in his day. He taught me himself to shoot, when I was a girl. I could outdo any of the noblemen that dared challenge me.”

Princess Leia smiled warmly at the memory of her youth at the Alderaanian court. She patted her daughter-in-law’s arm which was currently entwined in her own. “If I didn’t fear showing up all these puffed up young men I’d take to the butts myself. It would hardly look good for an old woman to give a thrashing to these peacocks, eh?”

Rey pursed her lips to withhold a laugh at the image the woman’s words created. She had to admit that it would be amusing to see gray haired Leia Organa outshooting the noblemen entered in the day’s archery contest. Instead of leading her mother-in-law to the archery butts, Rey helped her into a seat placed under the canopy set aside for the royal party. Cleera was seated already though she stood out of deference for her daughter’s status once Rey appeared. It was still a hardship to get past the fact that she outranked her own mother.

“Your Grace, if we may have a word?.”

Rey turned in her seat to find Finn leaning over the back of her chair with Poe at his heels. He seemed uneasy, eyes flitting across the butts to search for someone. Rey followed his eyeline to discover that he was searching for her husband who was speaking to one of the Alderaanian retinue competing that afternoon.

She excused herself from the pair of royal women, already engaged in a discussion about the insufferable heat, to attend to her friends. Poe offered his arm and led the trio toward one end of a large table spread with comfits and other refreshments underneath a canopy. 

“We think we might have a lead on your father’s assassin,” Poe admitted, watching her face for any signs of shock. If she showed too much of a reaction they risked others nearby picking up on the queen’s distress. Poe had no need to warn her; she was raised among the court and knew how to keep a ‘poker’ face. 

“Do you?” she asked, reaching for a glass of wine as if they were simply discussing the chances of the court favorites for the competition. The slight breathless quality to her voice was the only factor that gave away her surprise. “And what of it?” 

She’d tasked the Damerons with leading an investigation to find the man who’d murdered her father. It was six months after his death and nothing had come up. It was incredibly frustrating, as she felt as if she was disrespecting her father’s memory by being unable to put his killer to justice.

“My father apprehended a smuggler on the border of our estates and Yavin. He plead for his freedom, of course,” Poe said with a wave of his hand, illustrating how inconsequential the aspect was to his story. “He insisted that his employer would send a bounty hunter after him if he did not follow through with his delivery. This bounty hunter is up and coming, particularly adept with a bow and arrow.”

Rey forced down a sip of wine to avoid gasping. She nearly choked on the goblet’s contents in her haste. Finn reached a hand out to take the goblet from her lest she try to mask her grimace with more wine.

“It could be nothing-”

“I insist that this be investigated,” she interrupted her older cousin. “It may be nothing in connection to my father’s murder, but we have to investigate all the same.” They had no other leads to go off of. If the bounty hunter wasn’t the same man as her father’s assassin, perhaps he would be able to lead them to the real fiend. 

“My father was going to tell you at the next council meeting. He thought that you and His Majesty would wish to discuss a plan,” Poe said, nearly drowned out by the blaring of the horn that called for the competition to begin. 

“I desire this to be handled discreetly,” Rey insisted as she smoothed her bodice in an attempt to regain her composure. She couldn’t return to her mother and mother-in-law looking harried or they would inquire as to what was wrong. The topic of her father’s murder was something that she didn’t wish to discuss openly. Later she would find the time to speak to her mother privately, once all was underway. 

“Have the man questioned further about the bounty hunter. Offer a royal pardon, even, if that loosens his tongue. No one else is to know of this.”

Neither of her friends pointed out that her husband was not included in the ‘knowing’ group. Rey believed it to be a private matter, one that concerned her and her mother. Once the man was apprehended she would speak to her husband on the proper punishment. Until then she didn’t plan on discussing the issue with him.

Finn led her back to the gaggle of royals and helped her into her seat with a silent bow.   
She’d schooled her features into a neutral expression by then, seeming as if she hadn’t discussed the possibility of catching the late king’s assassin only seconds earlier. No one was the wiser, especially the new king beside her.

\--

The whirlwind of festivities following her wedding and coronation left her bone weary. Each night she longed to climb into bed and fall into a dreamless sleep, so tired was she by the day’s events. Once she managed to fall asleep before her husband arrived, only to be jarred awake by Kylo climbing into bed. She was then woken thoroughly by him which, in the end, only left her more exhausted. 

It was with great difficulty that Rey attended the hunt the morning after her husband brought her into bliss for the first time. She’d been sore and ached between her legs, yet hadn’t wanted to miss the event. Her absence would speak too loudly. Kylo’s smug expression when she’d winced upon dismounting hadn’t made matters any better.

She refused to show her fatigue as she was aware plenty were looking for signs of it. Quite a few married ladies and lords peered at the royal couple with sly looks each morning, wondering if they’d yet to tire each other out. Men hungry for power attempted to gauge the king’s satisfaction in the hope that he was disappointed in his bride. Many would be only too happy to push their unmarried, or married, daughters into his sights.

To her knowledge her father never held a mistress. Even if the late king hadn’t, it was still possible for the new king to select one. It was, unfortunately, the way of the world in which Rey and those of her sex lived in. She was fortunate in gaining the throne through inheritance rather than marriage as she would have little standing otherwise. If that was the case she would have to rely upon having a son, for a queen that birthed a royal heir was given nearly godly status. 

\--  
The day following the archery competition was set to be a test of combat between the Jedi and the Knights of Ren. As there never existed an order of knights beside the Jedi in Ileenium, interest was high among the courtiers to see a display of abilities from the Knights of Ren. 

Rey’s gown of fawn velvet clashed with the black tabard worn by her husband the day of the tournament. On his breast was emblazoned the flaming sword of the Knights of Ren, making it obvious who their benefactor was in Ileenium. He watched with thinly veiled approval as his men faced off against the Jedi throughout the afternoon. 

The Ren were a decent match to the Jedi, sharing some basic forms of fighting as explained by her husband. Excitement colored his words as he leaned over to explain the similarities and differences in forms, proving background that was previously unknown to her. She realized that he’d been a Knight of Ren for nearly half his life; their way of living and fighting was a part of him.

“Our youngest son will be drafted into their Order,” he shared as his hand moved to rest lightly upon her arm. “It’s only right for one of our children to follow the footsteps of his father.”

A blow to the helmet of one of the Jedi sent the knight sprawling into the sand, cutting off Kylo mid explanation. He rose to his feet, clapping his broad hands for the Ren. The victor acknowledged his liege’s approval with a deep bow before he departed the field. Rey’s concern was of the wounded Jedi who, after the physician removed his helmet, appeared merely dazed. Though such a tournament was meant to be a show of skill, there were instances of dire injuries or even death in the past. 

With the competition drawing to a close it seemed that it would end in a tie. The last match concluded with one of the Jedi delivering a solid blow to his opponent which incapacitated him. As he was led off the field in the arms of his comrades, Kylo stood. 

“It appears to be a draw,” he spoke, hands coming to rest on the railing of the royal dais. The crowd murmured over the uncertainty of the competition’s outcome. They hastily silenced at a gesture from the king. He tapped the fingers of his left hand upon the railing, the gem in the ring that once graced the hands of the Kenobi kings winking in the sunlight. “That will hardly do.”

Rey clenched her hand in her lap to keep herself from rising. It was growing insufferably hot and she wished to return to the castle. She highly doubted she was the only one among the assembled courtiers who would like to escape the summer sun. 

“Lord Streen!”

The crowd seemed to turn their heads as if one toward the leader of the Jedi, seated to the side of the dais. He stood at the voice of his king and inclined his head. 

“Let us settle this tie ourselves: myself representing the Knights of Ren and you the Jedi.”

Instantly the gathered crowd began whispering amongst themselves at the unexpected suggestion. Their waning attention, drained by the seasonal heat, was suddenly invigorated by the idea of seeing their new king in combat. 

Rey leaned forward in her seat in order to better see Lord Streen. He was faced with little choice, she realized. If he was to deny Kylo’s request it would give the Knights of Ren not only the win of the day, but an upper hand over the Jedi. To rebuff his king’s demand would put Streen in a precarious situation as well.

But if he was to fight, if he sparred against Kylo, Rey didn’t see him having a chance of winning. Kylo was at least twenty years younger than Lord Streen and held all the advantages that accompanied a younger age. To fight would mean defeat which could lead to other Jedi challenging his role as leader of the knights. Or, if he won….

Lord Streen made his decision in a matter of seconds. “I would be most honored, Your Grace, to join you on the field,” he said with another humble incline of his head. 

Applause from the crowd in approval over the idea of seeing the younger man face off against the elder set Rey’s stomach to turning. She barely listened as her husband called for armor to be brought to him while he swept off the dais. Without thinking she launched herself to her feet and tore off after him.

Rey brushed aside the flap of the tent he’d stepped into, one of the pavilions set aside for the Knights of Ren. At the appearance of the queen the few warriors remaining in the tent dropped to their knees. She waved her hand in a show of dismissal, seeking to speak to her husband in private. To her consternation the gaggle of men looked toward Kylo for his approval and, upon receiving a curt nod, took their leave of the royal pair.

“This is madness,” she hissed, hands coming to rest on her hips. “You have to go out there and tell Lord Streen you only meant your offer in jest. You can hardly fight him!”

Kylo merely raised a dark brow at her indignation. The arrival of a page with a set of armor disrupted the conversation, leading to Rey brooding in silence. Once her husband was ensconced in armor and the page gone, Rey aired her grievances further. “He’s an old man, Kylo. You could seriously harm him. And what sport is that, hmm? Defeating a man past his prime only to make yourself look strong?”

To her credit she stood her ground as her husband went toe to toe with her. His height, along with the metal encasing his body, might’ve cowed a lesser woman. Yet Rey’s stubbornness and conviction allowed her to keep from retreating. 

“I can very well do whatever I please,” he corrected her, his tone short. “I’m the king, after all.”

Rage colored her cheeks a red that was deeper than the rouge that painted her cheeks . “You’re the king because I chose you,” she snapped. “You’d still be stuck in Generis if it wasn’t for me!”

Utter shock washed over his face at her nerve. Once the words left her lips she regretted them, having not meant to bait him. She had a habit of speaking before thinking; it was a trait she’d inherited from the Damerons, her father used to remind her with exaggerated sighs.

Where moments earlier her face had been inflamed in anger, now it was pallid as the blood rushed from it once she realized her overstep.

Her rage transferred to him as he recovered from the abruptness of her comment. She was saved from finding out what he would say, or do, at the sound of the horn calling the final opponents to the field. He shoved on his helmet and grabbed his sword in one gloved hand. 

“Madam,” he bit in dismissal while stepping past her.

Rey stared down at her hands to find them trembling. With a deep breath she clenched her hands into fists and pressed them to her sides, ignorant of the bite of her rings into the meaty flesh of her palms. She exited the tent to return to her seat upon the dais. Where Princess Leia tried to give her a discreet look at her return, the Dowager Queen made no such attempt.

“Where were you?” Cleera asked, plastering on a smile as she clapped along with the other courtiers at the arrival of the king and Lord Streen to the field. 

Rey’s smile was forced as she answered her mother. “Trying to talk sense into my nerfherder of a husband,” she said, doing her best to speak quietly without moving her lips too much. Always in the public eye, it wasn’t past some of the court to attempt to read the lips of the royals sitting in the box.

Apparently she hadn’t spoken low enough as Leia stifled a chortle into her handkerchief.

Rey ignored her mother’s look of disapproval in favor of watching the two men squaring off. She stood by her protestation that the fight was not only unneeded but also unchivalrous. How could making a spectacle of an old man be considered a noble action worthy of a king?

As with the other matches, the first knight to the sandy ground beneath them would lose. Rey only hoped that her husband would end the fight quickly in order to spare Lord Streen the humiliation of a long, drawn out spectacle before the court.

The two opponents circled one another before her husband made the first move. His sword came into contact with Streen’s shield, marring the crest of the Jedi painted on its wooden face. Streen blocked the second blow before delivering a strike of his own. Kylo dodged the swipe and took a step back, turning his wrist to readjust his grip on his weapon. The courtiers clapped politely at the show of skill between the two men.

Rey tried not to sit on the edge of her seat though she supposed any that observed her would think her concerned for her husband rather than the leader of the Jedi. 

Kylo was unrelenting in his blows directed toward Streen. Within a few minutes he seemed to be tiring of the game, wanting to emerge the victor to his adoring subjects. Yet Streen met his sword stroke for stroke, showcasing a strength that Rey hadn’t known the fifty-something to still have. He wasn’t harried by the fight which allowed for a clear head. He only needed to wait for the king to make a mistake, most likely from impatience and overconfidence.

The match ended with one of the opponents on the ground, but not the one expected: her husband was sent into the dirt by a strike to his side due to a cocky mistake. The crash of metal as he fell prefaced eerie silence that fell over the crowd. 

Rey hastily stood along with the others sitting upon the dais. Two of the Knights of Ren dashed onto the field to attend their lord while Streen shucked off his helmet. He tossed it onto the sandy ground as the Ren lifted the king’s helm. So close to her husband, Rey was able to see the absolute fury that was written plainly on his face. As soon as the expression came on it disappeared, to be replaced by a painfully tight jaw.

Kylo waved off his men in favor of standing unassisted. He wasn’t standing nearly as tall as when he entered the ring, making her suspect he had the wind knocked out of him by Streen. Seeing the king standing and unharmed sparked applause throughout the crowd. He acknowledged them with an incline of his head and little else. It was a stark contrast to his victory induced high the day of the joust.

Rey slowly brought her hands together to clap along with the other spectators. She afforded the win to the Jedi which incited a roar of approval for Ileenium’s warriors. While the court made their way back to the castle, Rey stole off toward the tent that the Ren had shown her husband to. She was barred entrance by a reedy looking knight at the entrance.

“His Majesty requests you return to the castle, Your Majesty,” he uttered, eyes unfeeling as he stared down at his new monarch. 

Rey narrowed her eyes at him, tipping up her head to look at the knight properly. “Tell ‘His Majesty’ that his lady wife wished to know the state of his injury,” she said with a clipped tone, “on the chance that he cared to know.”

The knight respectfully bowed his head and withheld any comment on the queen’s response.

She stalked back to the castle while attempting to ignore the fuming anger burning in her chest.

\--

That night found her sleeping alone for the first time since the eve of her wedding. The next day she woke to news of the armory having been thoroughly trashed.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The kudos, comments, and bookmarks are appreciated as ever. I'm still surprised someone else is reading this other than me. :P
> 
> Follow me on tumblr: beyond-this-illusion.tumblr.com

“Poe’s odds are good, but what about the odds that he’ll go flying into the river?”

Rey muffled an unladylike guffaw behind her hand at her friend’s question. Finn grinned widely at getting a reaction from her, ignorant of the king’s suspicious glance. The nobleman was leaning over Rey’s chair to speak to her as the court gathered along the river bank to watch the boat races. A handful of nobles commissioned barges to be propelled down the river in the hope of beating out all others. The boat and accompanying nobleman would be awarded the honor of sitting upon the dais with the royal family for that evening’s feast. 

The boats were decked out in various colors bespeaking of their patron’s house; orange and white of Dameron, steel gray of Phasma, white and silver of Mothma among others.

“Did you place any bets?” she inquired to her friend. He shook his head in response.

“No, though my aunt did. She has a bit of coin placed on Lady Phasma’s crew.”

Both of their attention was drawn to the noblewoman’s boat, manned by one of the knights who rented land from the wealthy widow. Marguerite Phasma was one of the few members of the nobility who refrained from attending court on a regular basis. A widow of thirty, Phasma much preferred the tranquility of her late husband’s estates rather than the hustle and bustle of court.

“My aunt said that ‘widows should stand together’, or something along those lines,” Finn added which drew Rey’s attention back to him.

“Your aunt has good sense,” Leia interjected, having ended her conversation with the female attendant beside her seat. She reached over to touch one of the twin buns adorning either side of Rey’s head.

After much admiring the Alderaanian hairstyle, Rey had expressed her desire to style her hair in such a way for the boat race. Her mother-in-law had been only too happy to send one of her ladies-in-waiting, Greer Sonnel, to help her in dressing her hair that morning. 

Queen Cleera had merely sniffed in response to her daughter’s eclectic style of hair.

“I wouldn’t count out the Alderaanian. Lord Casterfo isn’t one to shirk from a competition,” the princess said while pointing out her nobleman’s craft. 

Finn ducked back to his seat among the nobles at the sound of a horn, signalling the start of the race. Rey craned her neck to see the boats begin to strike out from the starting port on their journey across the river. The court roared in encouragement as the boats drew ever closer.

“Dameron, Dameron!” Rey shouted, her words lost among the roar of the assembled nobility as they yelled out their support. She brought her hands together sharply to add to the deafening din.

Faintly she felt her husband’s eyes on her, taking in her apparent excitement over the race unfolding before them. From the corner of her eye she could see him sitting ramrod straight, not uttering a peep as the boats rowed past. He seemed bored of the event, if she was to pin down his feelings of it. There was no bloodshed involved nor show of brute force. 

Her heart leaped into her throat as her cousin’s boat edged before the rest. She stood from her seat in order to better see over the heads of those standing below the elevated seats of the royal family. 

To her distaste she saw another boat gaining on her cousin’s until it had overtaken it completely. From where she was standing she could see Poe hastily join the crewmen in an attempt to propel the boat closer to the finish line, but his efforts were for naught. The boat emblazoned with the arms of Hux reached shore before the nose of Dameron’s could reach. 

Rey politely clapped at Hux’s victory. She pasted on a neutral smile as he disembarked from his craft to approach the dais. 

“Your Majesties,” he said with a courteous bow. “I look forward to dining alongside you both this evening.” He raised his head from his act of deference, eyes shining with pride. She knew he saw the dais as his rightful place due to his birth and prestige. She was sure he still lamented after his failed attempt for her hand and the crown of Ileenium that came with it.

She knew him too well to think anything differently.  
\--

“His Grace certainly enjoys the sound of his own voice,” Kylo whispered to her after the last course was cleared from the hall. 

Rey bit her lip to keep from smiling, finding that she agreed wholeheartedly with her husband’s assessment of the Duke of Arkanis. 

“Some find Hux to be the most prestigious nobleman in the realm,” she said, arching a brow as she reached for her goblet. “Though I don’t find their opinions to match mine.”

The royal pair watched as their guest of honor spoke with Lady Carisse Sindian and her mother across the hall. His imperious behavior seemed to delight the two women who were nearly simpering over him. 

“I heard that he was a candidate for your hand.”

Rey set down her goblet after a brief sip of chilled wine, startled by his comment. She supposed it was common enough knowledge that, as with his distant claim to the throne, Hux had been a choice in husband.

“You heard correct,” Rey affirmed. 

She watched her husband curiously to see what his intentions were in bringing up Hux’s prior possibility as her spouse. 

“I suppose it is the best for both of us that you chose to look elsewhere,” Kylo said with a mischievous smirk. 

The gesture caught her off guard, as she had yet to see this particular side to his personality. She thought his emotional range to span from moody to resigned with little in between. Humor was an altogether unforeseen development. 

She wholeheartedly approved.   
\--

Rey hadn’t broached the topic of Kylo’s sleeping arrangements during the evening meal, so when he arrived not long after she retired to bed she was somewhat surprised. His snub the night before was not forgotten though she had to admit it had been nice to simply sleep by herself. 

He shucked his nightshift off without preamble, serving to shock her regardless that she’d seen his bare body already. Rey caught a barely concealed smirk on his lips at her vivid surprise. 

“I’m sorry that I could not join you last evening,” he apologized while climbing into her bed. 

Rey stared at him dumbly, unsure of what to say in the wake of the understated excuse. She was certain that it had been him who trashed the armory late the night before because of his humiliation at the hands of Streen. She wisely refrained from commenting on it.

“Husbands and wives don’t always share beds,” Rey said with a shrug of her shoulders. She leaned back against her pillows to watch him, waiting to see what he would do.

Kylo reached over to toy with the lace that fasted her nightdress at her collarbone. His lips tilted upward, a coy smile alighting. “I would have to be a fool to forsake your bed,” he said softly.

Her face flushed which only seemed to encourage him. Kylo shifted so that he could draw her closer to him, his bare chest pressed to her clothed one. His lips descended upon hers, kneading and pressing. Rey’s eyes fluttered closed as she focused on molding the soft flesh to his. 

Tugging at her nightdress expressed his desire for it to bed shed. The two managed to divest her of the clothing to have it join his discarded nightwear on the floor. 

Kylo’s hands slid up her sides until they reached her ribs. He let his fingers wrap around her back, right beneath her arms, with his thumbs resting on her nipples. Gently he rolled the pads of his thumbs over the soft peaks until they hardened. 

Her husband pulled his head from her lips to reposition them over her left breast. Without thinking her fingers slid into his hair as if to keep him in place.

Moving one hand from her breast, Kylo’s long fingers next probed the folds between her legs. She keened in the back of her throat as he crooked his fingers within her, hitting the sensitive bundle of nerves hiding there. Rey arched against him, thus sending her breasts closer to his mouth. She felt him grin against her as his tongue swirled over a dusky nipple. 

Quite suddenly the near euphoria she was experiencing was unfairly cut off. 

“What-”

Kylo chuckled tightly at her apparent disappointment. He extracted his fingers, leaving a damp trail the inside of her thighs, and nudged her to turn over. Curiously she did as he silently asked of her. 

Uncertain, Rey went to lay on her stomach. He took her hips and lifted them before patting her leg. “Hold yourself up,” he murmured, reaching over to help situated her on her hands and knees. His hard length brushing up against the curve of her rear spoke of his readiness.

For a brief moment she wondered if he meant to sodomize her. As sheltered of an upbringing as she had, she wasn’t ignorant of the acts that the Church forbade. Despite being against doctrine she was aware that some took part in the peculiar act. Rey went to sit up and perhaps push him away when he thrust into her cunt.

All thoughts of getting him off her were replaced by wanting him in further. Her hands clutched the sheets beneath them as he rocked against her. Every thrust of his cock into her drove her ever closer to the sheer bliss of climax. She made her pleasure known to him through breathy moans and needy pants. She was the picture of wantonness; breasts swinging, jaw slack, eyes glassy and mouth emitting lustful noises.

Yet she hardly cared. All she could focus on was him driving her into her next orgasm.

Rey sensed that her husband wasn’t far from a climax of his own, if the sound of his gravely moans in her ear were any clue. He kept one hand on her hip as he snapped his into them while the other gathered her hair off her back. He tugged on it lightly to get her to lift her head and expose the column of her neck. Kylo’s lips latched onto the pale skin as he’d done to her breasts earlier. 

A strangled moan elicited from her throat signaled her orgasm, brought on by the added stimulus of his lips. Rey shivered as her inner walls convulsed around his cock, clamping down tightly enough to release his orgasm. He came with a muffled curse against her neck, pumping a few more times before slipping out of her.

Rey let herself collapse onto her stomach as her legs and arms could no longer withstand the effort of keeping her body aloft. She kept still on her front for a moment to gather herself amidst the post-coital haze. Once she regained enough strength she turned onto her side to face Kylo who was lounging on his back, breathing slowly returning to normal. 

She felt some of his seed slide down the inside of her thigh though she made no move to wipe it away. It appeared she hadn’t been the only one to notice the trickle as Kylo’s thumb scraped another drop of escaped liquid from the apex of her thighs back to her dripping cunt. Overly sensitive, she felt a pulsing between her legs at the prodding from his digit.

The purpose of their nightly romps was to create an heir; she’d nearly forgotten until he’d tried to keep her from leaking his efforts. Their intimacies were nothing more than transactions, duties carried out that both were required to fulfill. 

She’d be kidding herself if they were meant to be anything more.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally are wrapping up the wedding/coronation festivities. It took longer than expected.
> 
> Thanks for the comments and kudos! 
> 
> If you have any questions or just want to stop by and chat, I'm on tumblr: beyond-this-illusion.tumblr.com

The last night of the wedding festivities, effectively sending off the Alderaanian party the next day, was as raucous as Twelfth Night.  Out of all the feasts that followed the one served after the wedding and coronation, the final night of feasting came closest in terms of lavishness.  With every decadent dish sent into the hall, Rey could practically see the cost adding in her uncle’s head.  

 

The sweaty dew on his forehead wasn’t just from the heat of the summer night, she was sure.  

 

During the leadup to the wedding, the cost of the festivities had been taken into careful consideration.  Under the marriage treaty, Alderaan promised to pay for a third of the costs accrued, though that had done little to assure her Uncle Rickard.  As treasurer it fell to him to work out the logistics of paying for the pomp that was expected of a wedding and coronation.  

 

Queen Cleera had argued for a separate coronation though she’d been overruled due to the extravagant cost the two events would warrant.  Combining both ceremonies to one day left one feast instead of two, as well as only a single week of celebrations.  

 

Haamal left the coffers of Ileenium full yet they weren’t as wealthy as they once were.  They were certainly in better condition that King Obi-Wan had found them upon the death of Skywalker.  To alleviate the kingdom’s finances, Rey dipped into her own purse to offset some of the cost of the weeklong jubilation.  Her father’s former dukedom of Stewjon along with Scipio provided funds specifically for the running of her household. Up until her marriage, Tatoo had provided income as well.  Rey had minor estates in addition, though none that provided titles such as Stewjon and Scipio.

 

The wealth of wedding presents bestowed upon the pair would help recoup funds.  Bolts of expensive cloth, gold plates, and bags of coins were collected following their nuptials from the noble guests.  One particular gift of brocade, given by Lord Casterfo, had been transformed into the gown she was wearing for the final night’s celebration.  The young nobleman practically glowed when she’d entered the hall on her husband’s arm with his gift on full view.

 

Rey found Lord Casterfo to be a polite man, if not a tad bit pompous.  Leia was quite fond of him and, despite not knowing her mother-in-law for long, Rey found herself trusting the woman’s judgement.  With Leia and her son no longer in the line of succession for the throne of Alderaan, Ransolm Casterfo was the king-in-waiting. His eagerness to integrate himself into the good graces of the newly crowned monarchs of Ileenium hadn’t been amiss.  It would be beneficial for the smaller kingdom to continue a positive relationship with Ileenium after Alderaan’s change of regime.

 

As the feast continued, Rey took stock of the court infused with their noble guests from beyond Ileenium’s borders.  A number would stay behind to serve her husband. Some nobles would be in her husband’s household while the knights that remained would help birth the new chapter of the Knights of Ren.  After the display upon the sparring grounds, Rey believed Lord Streen to no longer be apprehensive over the establishment of another branch of knights within the kingdom.  For the time being the Jedi remained supreme.

 

With her family’s history of supporting the Jedi Knights, Rey intended to continue to be their patroness despite her husband’s role in the Ren.

 

“Rey.”

 

The queen turned to her husband beside her who was leaning slightly to better speak to her over the combined noise of hundreds talking along with the background music from the minstrels.  “I have someone I’d like to present to you.  May I?” he inquired before offering his hand.

 

She stood, her chair being pulled back by Jessika stationed behind her, to accept her husband’s proffered hand.  His fingers wrapped around hers to show her to the man that had caught his eye among the crowd.  Those sitting around the man in question hushed their speech in order to better eavesdrop on the introduction about to take place.

 

Rey was halted before a gray haired man sitting at one of the long tables stationed in the hall.  The man, a stranger she’d yet to see, stood from the bench he’d been sitting on.  His lined face spoke of his surfeit of years. 

 

“I would like to present Count Tarkin, newly arrived from Tatooine,” Kylo introduced, clearly pleased by the man’s presence.  

 

Rey barely suppressed the arching of her brows as she extended her hand in order for the count to kiss her coronation ring.  When discussing the new council that would convene shortly after the wedding, Rey found a division of opinion with her husband over who should be chosen to advise them.  The matter was discussed at length during the days spent in Ganthel while the marriage treaty had been haggled over.  

 

Rey wished to keep her regency council intact though that had not been agreeable to the Alderaanian representatives.  They argued that her mother no longer had a place on the council, as she was only admitted based on Hamaal’s will.  Rey allowed the negation of her mother’s seat despite the extreme displeasure of Cleera.  The only consolation to the dowager was that her brother would remain as treasurer and a member of the council, thus able to look out for the best interests of the family.

 

Lord Streen was a touchy subject which Rey pressed for unrelentlessly despite Kylo’s specific request that the knight not be included.  She argued that there needed to be balance on the council if the leader of the Knights of Ren would be present.  Streen was reluctantly admitted.

 

Hux was excluded though the Alderaanian’s hadn’t given an extensive reason as to why they did not wish him involved.  Rey suspected it was because he’d been a major contender for her hand, as well as a possible heir to the throne.  She’d put up as little fight as was deemed acceptable on the issue as she didn’t wish for him to be seated upon the council either.  

 

The suggestion of Tarkin was altogether unexpected.  Rey wasn’t familiar with the name when the list of candidates was discussed, though her uncle had shed light on his identity.  Wilhuff Tarkin once served King Anakin Skywalker as member of his council.  There hadn’t been clear evidence that he’d helped in bringing down her grandfather’s government, though it was generally believed that he financed a portion of it.  There wasn’t enough certainty to tie him to it, despite his fleeing the kingdom after his king’s death.  He’d retreated to Tatooine where he’d grown in favor under the king, a distant relative of Anakin’s.

 

The Alderaanian’s hadn’t budged an inch on Tarkin which led to Rey reluctantly letting him on the council.   One old man couldn’t do much harm, she’d argued with her uncle.

 

“Your Majesty,” Tarkin greeted as he raised his head from her hand, his accent neat and crisp.  “You and your noble husband have done me a great honor in granting me a position on your council.  I will do my utmost to serve you to the best of my abilities, as I did my king.”

 

Rey’s smile tightened in reference to the usurper though she didn’t comment.  She was certain there would be talk later of how the queen must not approve of a remainder of Skywalker’s council now under her roof.  

 

The count would be lodged at court and granted the use of a townhouse in Coruscant.  She didn’t doubt that Kylo would attempt to find an estate for him soon though she wasn’t eager to mete out one for him.

 

“This must be your son, no?” Kylo questioned as his gaze moved to the man seated beside Tarkin.  The dark haired nobleman stood and bowed as his father had.  

 

“My son, Lord Jergen,” Tarkin introduced.  “He will be joining me here in Ileenium for the time being.”

 

The younger Tarkin must be one of the count’s younger children as he didn’t hold the title of ‘viscount’, like her cousin Poe did.  She supposed that was why he was permitted to accompany his father to Ileenium rather than remain behind in Tatooine.  

 

Pleasantries aside, the royal couple wished the pair of Tarkins a well evening before continuing on a circuit of the hall.  

 

“The count wrote to me before I arrived in Ileenium, asking for his son to be brought along with him.  I found no reason to deny his request,” Kylo explained.  He tucked Rey’s hand into the crook of his elbow as they walked.  

 

“I was hoping we could find a match for Lord Jergen,” he continued,” to honor his father for joining our council.”

 

Rey must’ve not hidden her surprise quickly enough as Kylo drew her to the side of the hall, away from the revelers.  

 

“Surely one of your ladies would do?  It would do well if we could find a bride for his lordship from a trusted member of the queen’s household.  Perhaps the dark haired lass that’s always with you?”

 

Rey bristled at the mention of Jessika.  “Lady Pava is….nearly spoken for,” she fumbled, not wanting to outright admit that she was only waiting for either her friend or her cousin to approach her for permission.  “It can’t be her.”

 

Kylo didn’t press further though it was clear that he wasn’t pleased with her response.   “Well, there is time to choose a suitable candidate,” he supposed.  “I thought it would be prudent to keep it in mind.”

 

With that he led her back to the dais where the pair sat in awkward silence for a good portion of the evening.

 

\--

 

The next morning’s weather bode well for the departure of the Alderaanians.  The noble party would take a route east through Ganthel back to their kingdom with well wishes for King Bail.  Leia spoke so highly of her adopted father that Rey felt nearly as if she knew him.

 

She embraced her mother-in-law with sincerity as the princess took her leave of the royal family in the courtyard.  “I’ll write often,” Leia promised as she took Rey’s face between her hands, one palm on either cheek.  “And I expect you to do the same.  When you go into confinement I’ll be there.”

 

Rey’s smile faltered at the mention of her expected pregnancy, knowing how much was riding on the delivery of an heir.  Not for the first time did she worry for her fertility.  Her parents tried for a child for many years before having her, making their their only living child.  Hammal had been an only child as well, and his father only one of two children. As queen her chief duty was providing heirs for her kingdom.  To fail her people in that regard would be unthinkable.

 

“You’ll know as soon as we do,” Rey assured her mother-in-law.  

 

Leia gently patted her cheek before stepping to her son.  She embraced him, requiring him to awkwardly bend to make up for their exaggerated height difference.  He cooly pressed a kiss to her cheek and bid her farewell.

 

Their strained relationship was clear to Rey, thus making her uncomfortable.  Although she wasn’t as close with her mother as she had during her childhood, Rey knew she would be inconsolable if she had to leave her to live in another land.  Kylo didn’t seem the least bit phased, perhaps because he had already been living away from his family before marrying Rey. 

 

“Viscount!” Leia called once taking her leave of her son, blinking hurriedly to hide the moisture welling in her eyes.  

 

Poe slipped from the line of nobles, attired for escorting the Alderaanian party to the border.  He bowed before the princess which drew a smile from her.

 

“We are ready to depart at your command, Your Grace,” he said smoothly.  Rey once told him he could charm a twig if need be, as he seemed to ooze pure charisma. His charms were clearly not lost on the princess.

 

She chuckled wryly before taking his offered arm.  “Then I command it of you, dear viscount,” she teased.  

 

Rey thought she caught a twitch in her husband’s jaw as his mother was led away on the arm of the dashing young man.  The nobles remained in the courtyard until the train of litters and carts exited.  

 

“I’ll escort you back to your chambers, my lady,” Kylo said while presenting his arm to her. Rey took it though her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.  

 

“I thought we were to meet with the council?” she questioned while mentally reviewing their schedule.  That was what they’d spoken of the night before, at least.

 

Kylo hesitated, the pause being enough to tell her that he knew well enough what they’d intended to do.  

 

“I simply thought you would prefer the company of your ladies,” he explained.  “The meeting today will be of matters of little importance; the opening of my grandfather’s estate in Tatoo, minor offenses and such.  Why bother you with them?”

 

Rey paused, nearly having her mother bump into her.  As second lady in the kingdom, Cleera was awarded the privilege of walking behind her daughter when entering or exiting an event.  Rey murmured an apology to the dowager before tugging her husband’s sleeve to direct him to another corridor.  

 

“These matters concern my kingdom, thus they concern me,” Rey corrected.  “I will be there, though I thank you for your thoughts toward my preferences.”  Her tone was tight, making it clear to him that she had an inkling that he hadn’t been thinking only of her comfort.  Alone before the council  he wouldn’t have to put up with her possibly overruling him.  The possibility was enough, she was certain, to put him on edge.

 

His nod was curt though his expression betrayed none of the disgruntledness that she supposed he was feeling.

  
“Then let us meet with our council,” he said with finality, beginning to walk.  Rey struggled to keep up with his swift stride lest she be dragged behind him.  By the time they arrived in the council chambers, both monarchs were visibly irritated.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos, comments, and bookmarks! 
> 
> Flamingcabbage brought up two very good question regarding the use of titles and religion that I'd like to address here for the rest of you reading.
> 
> 1\. Titles would be referred to differently than how I've been using them in this fic. Ex. Duke Hux instead of the correct address of Duke of Arkanis or simply Arkanis. But for the purpose of this fic, I chose to refer to surnames. I feel that I might've been overwhelming with the amount of information I threw at readers already, and that the inclusion of writer-constructed titles would only mix up characters. 
> 
> 2\. As for religion, I've made mention of Mass, bishops, etc because I've been trying to stay true to the role of religion in the time frame I've chosen. Of course this isn't really Medieval Europe, so tweaks had to be made. I've transported what we know of Medieval Europe into this world; the religion of Christianity, among other things. There is a Pope in this verse, there are bishops, etc. Our 'Rome' in this verse will be located in Tatooine.
> 
> If anyone has any questions or just want to say 'hi', message me on tumblr : beyond-this-illusion.tumblr.com

In an attempt to combat the summer heat, Rey and her ladies took daily strolls along the bank of the river. There was little to be achieved near the water though being outside, rather than shut behind the castle’s stone walls, did wonders for Rey’s mood. More often than not she would draw a crowd on the opposite bank full of commoners eager to catch sight of their queen. She would pause and wave, hearing their shouts of good wishes over the water. Their apparent happiness with her in the wake of her controversial marriage assured her that all was well between herself and her people.

At least, she hoped.

Returning from one of her daily walks a week after the end of her wedding festivities, Rey was met by one of her uncle’s pages requesting an audience on behalf of the viscount. The queen readily accepted a meeting with her cousin, just arrived from escorting the Alderaanians to the border.

Rey had been half afraid that he wouldn’t have opted to return, so taken was the Princess of Alderaan with her cousin.

Ensconced in her chambers with her ladies strewn about her, Rey received Poe. He was still dressed from the road, if the unhealthy amount of dust coating his clothing provided enough of a clue. By all rights he should’ve changed his clothing before being presented to the queen but it was Poe; she hardly cared for the upholding of etiquette where he was concerned. 

The viscount stepped into the room before sketching a bow. She gladly rose from her chair to greet him, embracing him despite his dusty clothing. 

“The princess reached the border safely I trust?” she questioned, bringing herself back slightly in order to look him over. He seemed none the worse for wear from his trip, despite his clothing from the long ride.

Poe nodded in the affirmative. “She sends her love for you and her son, and her desire to see you both again soon,” he shared. 

A noise from his coat pocket drew her attention as well as that of the ladies nearest her. 

“Oh! I nearly forgot…..”

He reached into the pocket of his coat to produce the source of the odd noise. A disgruntled, orange and white colored kitten emerged from the confines of the jacket. It mewled its displeasure at having its nap disturbed by the hug shared between the cousins. 

“His name is BB-8,” Poe related proudly while rubbing between the kitten’s ears. The kitten’s annoyance melted away, only to be replaced by pleasure at having his attention. It purred softly while nudging its head against Poe’s forefinger. 

“Wherever did you find him?” Rey inquired, peering down at the kitten who was slowly becoming more aware of his surroundings the longer Poe petted him. 

“By the side of the road at the last inn,” he explained. “He was rummaging around in my saddle bag after I untacked my horse. I thought him so becoming that I couldn’t leave him be.” 

He passed the kitten to the queen who eagerly took him into her hands. A handful of her women crowded around her in order to better see the tiny animal. BB-8 took the influx of females in stride, mewling and purring for the gathered crowd. It appeared to Rey that the cat was just as charming as its owner.

Cats were generally employed in kitchens or stables to root out vermin rather than live life strictly as pets. Rey didn’t think her cousin would face any derision for his choice in pet, mostly because it would serve to endear him even further to the female population of court. 

At the thought of her cousin’s admirers, Rey looked up only to find Poe engaged in quiet conversation with Jessika. She’d put down the embroidery she’d been working on before his arrival, letting it sit to the side without a second thought. A blush stained her cheeks and, if Rey wasn’t mistaken, Poe’s face was colored as well. It was an interesting development as her cousin was well versed in the art of ‘courtly love’; flirtatious behavior without meaning or truth. This interaction with her lady seemed more than sincere.

Poe handed a small package to Jessika who placed it in the folds of her skirt, hidden due to her sitting position. The gesture wasn’t discreet enough as some of the young women who hadn’t chosen to fawn over the kitten seethed in jealousy at the exchange. 

When Poe returned to collect his new pet, Rey reluctantly handed him over. He’d once more fallen asleep, warm in Rey’s palm. BB-8 was returned to his make-shift nest in Poe’s coat pocket.

“If I may have a private moment with Your Grace?” he asked, tone neutral to discourage any eavesdroppers. She nodded before gesturing toward her bedchamber. Once inside she closed the door against the gentle murmurings of her women as they returned to their needlework, their handsome distraction now gone.

“I’ll be returning to Massasi in the morning,” Poe said while taking up a spot on the edge of her bed. “I’ll be able to interrogate the smuggler I spoke to you about.” 

Rey nodded, pacing from one end of her room to the other as she thought. “Whatever you find out, send word back quickly. As I told you before, a pardon may be given if that aids in this smuggler giving up his employer or the bounty hunter. I need to know if this fiend is the same man.”

“I’ll write to you as soon as I learn of anything,” he assured her. He stood, dusting off his coat to her chagrin; the motes danced in the light shining through the nearest window in testament to his traveled state. 

He flashed her a grin, once more donning the mask of flirtatious courtier, before taking his leave of her.

Rey lagged behind a few more moments in her chamber to gather herself. She felt the proximity to finding out the truth behind her father’s murder growing by the minute. She owed to it herself, her kingdom, and her late father to find out who had delivered the fatal arrow into the king’s breast. 

After taking a few calming breaths, the queen exited her bedchamber to rejoin her ladies. 

“Open it! Why, whatever it is must be something lovely, no?”

She caught Lady Carise Sindian’s saccharine demand, directed toward a blushing Jessika. The ladies were crowded around the maid-of-honor who seemed overwhelmed by the sudden attention. The small package that Poe had slipped into her hand was on full view upon her lap, outed by one of the eagle eyed noblewomen.

“I don’t know…” Jessika stalled, uncomfortable under the sudden influx of eyes upon her. It was clear to Rey that Carise wasn’t inquiring after the package with goodnatured curiosity. There was a predatory glint in her eye that was unsettling.

“It’s not everyday one of us receives a gift from one of the most noble of courtiers,” Carise prompted, earning a few murmured agreements from the gathered women. “Humor us, dear girl.”

Jessika reluctantly unwrapped the paper packaging to expose the bauble within. The women fawned over the piece, expressing their approval of the pair of golden pins used to attach a veil or henin to one’s hair. 

“Why, how lovely!” Carise exclaimed, her smile exaggerated enough to make ire prick at the back of Rey’s neck. “Such a quaint gift. Just wait until he’s really enamored by you; your neck will be sore from the jewels you’ll wear.” 

Lady Carise placed a dainty hand upon the latest gift she’d received from Duke Hux earlier in the week. The women quickly forgot about Jessika’s modest present in favor of inspecting Carise’s collar of emeralds. The necklace wasn’t a mere gift from a simple admirer; Rey didn’t doubt that Hux had serious intentions about Carise and her family’s wealth.

“Lady Carise, why don’t you sort the new embroidery threads? I have a desire to sew,” Rey ordered which effectively disrupted Carise’s one-woman-show. The black haired woman nearly allowed her displeasure to show before hiding her distaste behind a forced smile. She dipped a curtsy for good measure before going off to fetch the box in question. 

With the ladies otherwise occupied, Rey took up a spot at her friend’s side.

“They are lovely pins,” Rey murmured, looking over the girl’s shoulder at the hairpieces in her lap. “I never took Poe for someone interested in hairdressing.”

The ribbing earned the desired effect as Jessika smiled. She rewrapped the viscount’s gift before setting them aside. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him bestow a gift upon any of the court ladies,” Rey continued. 

“I believe you’re right,” Jessika concurred, raising her gaze from the package to her queen. 

Both women turned at the tinkling laughter of Carise, clearly enjoying herself in conversation with another noblewoman as she started the arduous task of untangling threads of silk. Rey had little love for the woman who she believed to have too high of an opinion of herself. Carise was one of the many additions to her household after her wedding. She hailed from a wealthy noble family near Massasi, in the northern region of Ileenium. That she was her father’s only child and subsequent heir made her a remarkable catch for any nobleman wishing to further his standing.

There was talk years back of Rey’s uncle wishing to form a union between the Sindians and the Damerons through a marriage with Poe and Carise, though nothing came from the idea. Rey wondered if Carise wasn’t just flaunting her pricier gift to derail conversation from Jessika to her, but also out of jealousy over the neglect of a previous marriage prospect.

“Poe is returning home but will be back within a few weeks,” Rey shared. “I’m sure he would be delighted to see the pins in your hair upon his return.”

Jessika’s blushed deepened, which only served to delight Rey further. 

\---  
Guilt over neglecting her mother during the wedding celebrations led to Rey requesting Cleera’s presence for supper. She ordered a meal be sent to her chambers for the two to dine in private, as her husband was taking his supper with the Tarkins. She was glad for the excuse not to join him as she had little desire to spend more time than necessary with the count. 

“Will you be joining us at Tatoo?” she inquired to her mother once their meal was served. 

Her husband was eager to see his family’s former holdings, which were now his. The first council meeting after their wedding served as an opportunity for Kylo to order the refurbishment of the estate in preparation for their visit. Major changes to the estate would take place after their visit concluded,while smaller alterations would be carried out beforehand. 

Cleera shook her head while reaching for a glass of wine, fresh from the arbors of Corellia. “I have no desire to visit there. I never once set foot on Skywalker land nor would I like to at any point.”

Rey chose not to correct her mother that technically she was on Skywalker land at the moment.

“Then you’ll stay in Coruscant?” the queen asked. She tore off a piece of chicken from the breast upon her plate, bringing the warm meat to her mouth after. 

“I believe I’ll stay in Mandalore for a time, at least until you return to the capital. I’ve neglected my holdings there,” the dowager explained. Her bridal lands, to fall to Rey upon her death, hadn’t been set foot upon by Cleera for years. They were more a source of income than a place to call ‘home’, as she’d always been at the king’s side.

Rey pondered the idea of Cleera eventually retiring to her estates instead of living in the capital or following the court from place to place. She enjoyed her mother’s company, though at times it could be taxing. Still, she imagined the queen would want some privacy after years of living under a magnifying glass at court.

“Has your husband been attending to his marital duties?”

The question caught Rey off guard, enough to have her nearly choke on a sip of wine. She coughed into her hand in an attempt to clear her throat.

“Excuse me?” she questioned, wondering if she’d heard her mother wrong.

“Has your husband been sharing your bed?” Cleera restated, looking to her only child with expectancy. “If he hasn’t, so early in your marriage, you should demand a potency exam from the physician. No newly married man, especially one married to such a beautiful girl as you, should be shirking the marital bed.”

Rey’s cheeks flamed crimson in response to her mother’s invasive question. “He has,” she answered hastily. “I assure you all is well in that...regard.”

“And he’s doing it fully? Bringing you to completion?”

Rey set down her knife and napkin hastily. “Why is this a matter of your concern?” she questioned, voice strained from her embarrassment. “I-”

Cleera tutted as if her daughter’s bashfulness was of little consequence. “It’s medical fact, my dear, that pregnancies can only be achieved if both partners reach completion. So he’s been doing it, then?”

Rey chose to block herself with her wine goblet as she took a swig, rather than watch her mother’s expectant face.

“Yes,” she responded, hoping that the lackluster answer was enough. It seemed to be as her mother, thankfully, switched the topic of conversation to the becoming headdress her sister-in-law wore the day prior.

\---  
When Kylo joined her in bed that evening she couldn’t put aside what her mother explained to her of conceiving. He was in the process of sliding up her nightdress when she placed a hand on his arm. He paused, momentarily perplexed about why she halted him.

“Do you know how to get someone pregnant?” she asked hesitantly.

His face went blank before he burst into laughter. The show of amusement crinkled the skin about his eyes, drawing his features into a pleasant expression. She noted that he should laugh more often, though preferably not at her.

“I should think so, though I’ve yet to impregnate anyone,” he assured her. “I think we’re off to the correct start.”

Kylo dipped his head down to press his lips upon the tender flesh of her neck, sucking gently at the skin in the way that sent her toes curling. It took some effort to recall that she hadn’t finished speaking with him.

“I know that,” she said with a huff. “But my mother said both partners need to reach….completion for it to work. Did you know that?”

Kylo lifted his head to look at her properly, causing her to lament the absence of his lips.

“I do know that,” he said with a light chuckle. “Why do you think I ensure that we both do?”   
Rey shrugged, unsure of how to answer him. He had a considerable amount more of experience in this regard than her, which she found discriminatory. 

“It isn’t just for that, though,” Kylo continued. “There is little pleasure to be had if only one of us is enjoying themselves.”

“Oh?” 

“Let me show you,” he propositioned with a smirk before his lips descended on hers.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where's the time gone?!
> 
> Thank you to those who've continued to read and comment, even though updates have been nonexistent up until now. I haven't forgotten this fic or my other, though it's been difficult to find time to write. I'm hoping once summer comes along I'll have more opportunities!
> 
>  
> 
> Follow me on tumblr: beyond-this-illusion.tumblr.com

Preparations for the court’s trip to Tatoo carried on through the end of the summer.  The court would reside at the Skywalker’s ancestral home for the months up until Yuletide, when they would then return to Coruscant for the holiday.  Rey held no great pleasure for the estate at Tatoo though her distaste did not extend to its people.  Her grandfather had not chosen to punish those of Tatoo that supported Skywalker’s rebellion after retaking the throne.  Still, the people of Tatoo remained on cooler terms with their monarch than those in other areas of the kingdom.

 

The best tapestries and linens were boxed in cedar chests in preparation for the journey.  Her ladies packed her gowns and body linens with care, arguing good naturedly over which garments would be best suited for the trip. 

 

A handful of her ladies hailed from the southern portion of the kingdom and were visibly excited at the prospect of their mistress visiting their familial manors along the way. The steward of the royal household had chosen a dozen great houses to be visited along the route to Tatoo.  There, the royal court would be feted and fed before leaving in a flurry of baggage carts.  It would almost be a mini-progress as the court traveled to Tatoo. 

 

Nearly every year her father had led the court on a tour of the kingdom. Nobles would host the court for a few nights before everyone would pack up and move onto the next estate.  Rey had always seen the event as a wonderful holiday.  However, there was a larger purpose of the progress than her younger self realized.  

 

She recalled distinctly her father hoisting her out of her mother’s horse drawn litter to sit before him on his steed as they traversed the countryside of Ileenium.  Though her parents had tried dearly, and prayed to the good Lord, no other living children were created from their union.  Instead of wallowing in his misfortune of his only heir being a female, King Hamaal chose to prepare his daughter in any way possible for her future duties.

 

_ “The purpose of progress is not for pleasure, dear Rey,” _ he’d told her that afternoon in the sun.   _ “But to survey our kingdom.  To meet our people, and for them to see us in return.”   _

 

At such a tender age, Rey had been far more preoccupied with the rare feasts that her mother allowed her to attend, well past her usual retiring time.  It wasn’t till she grew older than she recognized the usefulness of the tours, and their effect on the common people.

 

Whether it was attending a pageant in the village square, or distributing alms among the crowds, the people appreciated the sight of the royal family among them.  Rey intended to do her best to integrate with them as they journeyed to Tatoo.

 

\-------

 

As her ladies attended to packing up her chambers, Rey mulled over her husband's request as to a spouse for Count Tarkin’s son.  His earlier suggestion of Jessika was hardly suitable, as Rey expected a betrothal between the lady and Poe in the near future.  

 

Her ladies were her responsibility; the families of the young women entrusted her with making them advantageous marriages.  But who to choose? She didn’t dare arrange for young Tarkin to marry into one of the oldest, most noble houses of her kingdom.  The interjection of foreign blood, let alone that of a former adherent to the usurper Skywalker, would not suit the strongest houses.  

 

She needed someone who was loyal to the Kenobi line, with not a trace of treasonous doubt in their heritage.

 

A blonde head rose from her needlework to engage in discussion with the brunette to the right.  Mistress Motea’s movement caught both Rey’s eye and her consideration.  The girl’s father, Sir Jacob Watts, had served her father since the beginning of his reign.  The Watts owed their elevated station to King Hamaal; surely their loyalty was unquestionable.  

 

The girl was pleasant and fair of face, sure to please the younger Tarkin.  In return, Mistress Motea would receive an elevated station in the ranks of the nobility.  Jergen Tarken held a minor foreign lordship from Tatooine, and would undoubtedly be given a title from Ileenium if the king had any input.  

 

Content with the knowledge that she’d possibly orchestrated the first match of her ladies, Rey arose from her seat.  Instantly the gaggle of women stood as well in deference.  

 

“At ease, ladies,” she requested.  

 

Rey gestured for the two women closest to her before exiting the chamber.  The ladies followed dutifully at her heels, as rapt with attention as any of the prized spaniels in the kennels.

 

The familiar twists and turns of the corridors of Republica led her to her mother’s chambers.  The dowager, the former matchmaker-in-chief of the court, would provide advice as to Rey’s nuptial plan.  Cleera could provide a better candidate if need be, though Rey was quite sure that she’d chosen the noblewoman who would best benefit from the arrangement from her array of ladies.

 

An errant page boy carrying a folded letter nearly collided into her upon turning a corner.   The young lad blushed as red as the scarlet livery he donned at his impertinence.  The Skywalker colors made the boy look as if he’d bathed in blood.

 

“Your Grace!”

 

He prostrated himself upon his knee, head bowed as if expecting the axe to descend upon him at that very moment.  His overblown response struck her as odd, as none of her servants would think to act in such a way.  Perhaps the boy was merely ashamed of his faux-pas.  Or were all her husband’s servants afraid of royal wrath?

 

She hastily waved him up while proffering a hand for the letter.

 

“For my lord husband?” she asked, assuming that was who the boy had been heading to see.  Her husband’s chambers were only a handful of yards away, leading her to believe that was his destination.  

 

The boy nodded though he made no effort to hand her the sealed letter.  From what she could spy of the wax seal, the sender was unknown to her.  

 

“Just arrived from Tatooine, Your Grace,” the boy said with a slight head bob. 

 

The country of origin sparked her interest.

  
“I will accept the letter on his behalf.”

 

The boy’s lips parted as if he was about to protest, until he recalled who exactly he was speaking to.  With averted eyes he handed her the letter.  To ease his discomfort she gave him a coin from the velvet pouch attached to her girdle.  Indecision forgotten, the page gladly accepted the coin and bowed.  

 

Rey slid the letter up her sleeve before leading her ladies out of the corridor.  Neither of them commented on her aborted trip to her mother’s apartments, instead trotting after the queen silently.

 

It wasn’t until she was ensconced in her own privy chamber that she opened the missive.

 

The writing was cramped though oddly elegant.  Instantly her eyes alighted on the signature of the sender: Archbishop Skywalker.

 

_ Dearest nephew, Lord Kylo Ren, King of Ileenium, _

 

_ I greet you well, dear nephew, and congratulate you on your new marriage.  Your mother wrote me of your impending nuptials as you yourself did not choose to do so.  Surely God has smiled upon the Skywalkers with your wedding and coronation. _

 

_ Though you are undoubtedly engaged with the running of your kingdom, I should hope you find the spare moment to reply to your uncle.  I suppose my previous letters had difficulty reaching you in Moraband. _

 

_ As I was unable to attend your nuptial festivities, I would like to visit you and your queen in the new year.  I will be visiting your lady mother for Yuletide and would surely regret not journeying to Ileenium after.   _

 

_ God bless you and keep you and your spouse, _

 

_ His Excellency, Archbishop Skywalker of Mos Eisley _

 

Rey hadn’t heard a single mention of the Skywalker from her husband.  It seemed, according to his uncle’s letter, that Kylo wasn’t in favor of reaching out to his uncle regularly.  She toyed with the letter in her hands as her mind danced.

 

She was struck with curiosity over the twin of her mother-in-law.  If he was anything like Leia, Rey was sure she would enjoy meeting Luke.  

 

The sovereign rubbed her left thumb over the band of on the ring she received upon her coronation.  The soothing habit was mirrored after her father’s own; she’d often seen him doing such when looking over papers of state at the table situated in her husband’s apartments. 

 

Choosing not to hesitate a moment longer lest she lose her nerve, she stood and opened the door to her sitting chamber.  

 

The queen’s gaze scanned the room until alighting on Jessika.  

 

“Lady Pava, fetch some parchment and ink.  I would like to write a letter before we go into dine.”

 

Jessika rose from her stool to do as her mistress requested while the rest of the ladies returned to their needlework.  The women of her court were engaged in sewing shirts for the poor, to be given to a convent in Tatoo.  She hoped the gift would help melt the ice encasing some of the hearts of her countrymen to the south.

 

Rey settled herself at her writing desk where she was met with the supplies retrieved by Jessika.  The queen hesitated a moment in though, quill poised over the length of parchment.  Responding to her husband’s uncle without his knowledge was questionable, though inviting him to Ileenium was much worse.  For whatever reason, it appeared that the two weren’t in the habit of regular correspondence.  Though, truth be told, he didn’t write to his mother regularly either. 

 

The nib of her quill met the parchment, only leaving it to be dunked into the inkwell at her elbow.  

 

Satisfied with her response, Rey set to folding the parchment to obscure her words from curious eyes.  Jessika lit a candle in order for Rey to melt a stick of sealing wax.  A few drops fell from the stick, landing on the parchment below.  Her signet ring pressed deep into the wax to seal the letter. 

 

Jessika took a single glance at the name on the back of the parchment, causing her brows to raise. 

 

“Have it sent out with all haste,” the queen instructed, dropping her voice slightly so as not to be overheard by her ladies.  

 

Jessika did as she asked, tucking the letter into her sleeve and departing from the chamber.  Rey watched her go as her stomach rolled anxiously. 

 

\-------

 

The idea of telling her husband what she did that afternoon was far from favorable.  The letter, intended for Kylo, was stashed in her chest of correspondences upon a table in her bedchamber.  Normally she kept letters from her family within the chest; it served as a suitable place for Luke’s missive.

 

As her household met with her husband’s just outside the Great Hall, Rey resolved not to tell Kylo of what she did.  News of his uncle’s visit was best saved for when his arrival date drew near.  That way, Rey hoped, there wouldn’t be time for him to rescind the invitation.  

 

After dinner the gentlemen of her husband’s household joined her ladies in the queen’s sitting rooms for a round of cards.  There was a palpable excitement in the air over the trip to commence the next morning; the ladies’ laughter was a bit too shrill, the men's’ voices a tad too loud. 

 

Rey waited until her husband finished a round of Karnöffel before drawing him aside.  He tucked her hand into the crook of his velvet clad arm and steered her toward the rear of the chamber.

 

“I’ve given thought to your request about Lord Tarkin,” she broached as they settled themselves in a cushioned nook before an ajar window.  Wisely, both sat near simultaneously to avoid a question in position or protocol.

 

“Yes?” her husband encouraged, head turning to scrutinize her assorted ladies as if the lucky woman was to jump out of the crowd.  

 

“I believe Mistress Watts would be suitable for Tarkin.  Her family comes from loyal stock; her father served my father.”

 

Kylo’s head snapped back to her, his efforts to locate the girl forgotten.

 

“You said ‘Mistress Watts’.  What’s her father’s title?”

 

“He was knighted early in my father’s reign,” Rey explained.  She would've continued further, had her husband’s frown not dampened her words.

 

“You wish to give the daughter of a measly knight to Count Tarkin’s son?  I believe he would take the match as an insult,” Kylo commented with disappointment.  

 

Rey wouldn’t have been surprised if he next turned up his nose to her.  She pursed her lips, turning her head halfway to the window as if she meant to look out to the river.  In truth she was attempting to school her features lest one of the court realize the queen was growing exasperated by the king.

 

“Watt is exactly the type of house Tarkin should marry into,” she started, lifting her head in order to meet her husband’s eyes.  “Though they are not a great house, they are loyal to the crown and have never been tainted with the stain of treason, unlike others.”  She didn’t need to point any further to the Tarkins for her message to be clear.

 

“Besides, he’s a younger son with a foreign title.  If he was the count’s eldest I would look higher.”  

 

Discreetly she pointed out Tarkin’s intended bride to Kylo for him to observe.  “Mistress Motea is a pleasant girl, a humble girl.  She would make any gentleman a worthy bride.”

 

Rey tried to take a peek at her husband’s expression in an effort to gauge his reaction.  His eyes, usually so expressive, were focused on the maid-of-honor.

 

“We’ll give him a title,” Kylo concluded after a beat of silence, effectively accepting her suggestion.  “If we cannot spare an earldom, at least a baronry.”

 

“Agreed.”

 

She was treated to a brief show of surprise upon Kylo’s features at her answer..  She nearly laughed, so amused was she by his bewilderment.

 

“Surely we can come to a consensus at times,” she teased.  A rare smile perked up the corners of his lips at her comment.

 

Their relationship confused and frustrated her.  Initially he appeared to  want to charm her, she believed.  Did he think her a foolish girl, hoping for a love match?  She hadn’t planned on letting such charm distract her from her calling to the throne, nor had she done so yet.

 

His cool demeanor slipped on more than one occasion as they butted heads over matters of state.  Yet, when it was just the two of them, he was agreeable and- dare she admit- kind to her.  

His touch was gentle, never harsh, and his patience boundless in the bedchamber.  

 

Kylo was a puzzle too time consuming and exhausting to solve.

 

“We will need to be on the road come dawn,” the king’s voice stirred her from her thoughts.  “We’d best take our leave of you.”

 

Instantly her brow creased as confusion made itself plain on her visage.  “You don’t’-”

 

“I know you are on your monthly courses,” he interrupted her quietly.  “I won’t share your bed for the week.”

 

Scarlet bloomed in her cheeks at his indelicate interjection.  “I meant to tell you,” she began, “I meant to apologize.” She’d failed in one of her most sacred duties; to produce an heir was of the top priority.

 

The issue of her fertility- his as well- nagged her once more.  Both of them were the product of parents who birthed no more children.  What if they couldn’t produce even one?

 

Fertility was another plus to Tarkin with a marriage made to Mistress Watts; she hailed from a family of seven children.

 

A nearly overlooked point derailed Rey’s thoughts.

 

“How did you know?  That I’m on my courses, I mean?” she asked.

 

Any other husband might’ve been ashamed by the answer Kylo gave, though he clearly wasn’t.

 

“One of your chambermaids is in my employ.  She told me your sheets were changed this morning, as your courses began in the night.”

 

Gently he patted the hand still tucked in the crook of his arm before kissing her cheek, ignoring her dumbfoundedness.

 

“Goodnight, wife.”

 

He stood, which prompted the lutist stationed before the empty hearth to cease his playing.  As if on cue the gentlemen rose as well to bid the ladies goodnight.  

 

“May we help you to bed, Your Grace?”

 

Rey shook herself from her reverie at Jessika’s question.  She frowned, looking from the assorted ladies to the ajar window behind her.  

 

“I’m cold, ladies.  Someone shut the window, please.”

  
One of the women hastily did as she asked, though the temperature had little to do with the chill that descended over the queen.


End file.
